Echoes of the Past
by Gaming Ikari
Summary: Genma Saotome steals from a vampire who draws the wrong conclusion when he is nearly successful in escaping her. This leads to Alisa Perne becoming responsible for Ranma's upbringing. Crossover with The Last Vampire.
1. Chapter 1: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 1: Alisa

oOo

The man is fast. Faster than he should be. Faster than any human has any right to be. It's the first time in centuries I've been forced to work hard to catch someone, though early in the chase I know I will. As fast as he is, I am faster. My blond hair trails behind me as I leap from rooftop to rooftop, keeping his white-clad form in view.

In many ways he is an enigma. He is very fast and very strong, if his ability to leap is any indication. Likewise his senses are very, very acute. By the laboured keening of his breath and the erratic heartbeat, indicative of fear, he knows I'm following him and he's not happy with the idea. Everything he is tells me that he is like me, when earlier this evening I was certain of the fact that I'm the last of my, or perhaps our, kind.

Then again, the one thing that defies all that is the smell of him. He smells slightly of sake, underneath the combination of fresh and stale sweat which permeates the air around him. What he does not smell of is the faint, sweet smell of snake venom which is the telling scent which would give him away as being like me.

He makes a mistake when he chooses to leap across a wide road. His lead counts for little as the high arc of his jump leaves him hanging in mid-air, an irresistable target. My superior speed quickly closes the distance between us and I dive through the air, arms wide to grab him.

Allow me to clarify something: I am an expert in over a dozen martial arts. I've had five thousand years to practice, after all. My ludicrously good senses combined with my speed, strength, and agility mean I am very likely the most dangerous hunter that exists. However, this balding man, grinning slightly as he twisted in mid-air, somehow contrived to brace his hands on my biceps and twist his body to divert me face-first into the front of a shop and give himself an extra bit of lift.

I hear him chortling to himself as he bounds off, thinking me defeated. The poor bastard doesn't realize that now, now I'm _really _going to kill him. Painfully. I ignore the questioning shopkeeper and leap back up to the roof. The man happens to glance back as he flees, and his grin falls and he blanches at the look in my eyes.

Flee, little mortal. I'm coming. No longer bothering with the thrill of the hunt, I close the gap between us a lot faster. Soon after we reach the edge of town he skids to a stop as he turns to face me, setting the bag down in front of him and stepping back.

"I'm sorry, Perne-san," the man says in Japanese, his deep voice jovial and respectful all at once. "Had I known you were such a competent martial artist, I wouldn't have dared steal from you. I'm not looking for a fight. Please, take your belongings back with my apologies."

"I'm not here for those. I don't care about them," I spat in fluent Japanese, taking a step forward. "Just who the hell are you?"

"My name is Genma Saotome," he admits with a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in what appears to be a nervous habit. "Just a petty thief."

"No thief can move like you do," I point out.

"Now that's something I'm not interested in discussing," Genma says, lowering his center of gravity and raising his arms. "Look, miss, I'm not interested in fighting. What do you say to just taking your stuff back and calling it quits?"

"I'm sorry, but no," I say, readying myself to close the distance between us. "You're going to tell me all about the evil bastard who made you what you are, and why I can't smell the scent of his mark on you."

"Nobody evil had a hand in making me what I am," Genma chortles. I can hear the lie in his voice.

Only Yaksha could have done this. Only Yaksha was strong enough to have created a newborn vampire with this much strength and speed. Obviously he'd chosen a skilled martial artist as well. There were too many coincidences. I knew that something had been killing our kind. I'd thought my creator dead for many centuries. Obviously that belief was wrong.

This thief angle was a pathetic ploy for an assassin to hide behind... yet it felt like the truth to me. More importantly: Why would Yaksha create a new vampire if he was the one behind all the disappearances of our kind?

My doubts were pushed ruthlessly to the side as I close with my foe. He is fast and strong, yet I am faster and stronger. He is greatly skilled in martial arts. More than I am, to my surprise. Yet this skill he possesses does not make up for the relative lack of strength and speed. He fares well for the first dozen or so strikes. Then one of my punches slips in, cracking his ribs. He blocks the next three blows before I break his arm.

In the face of the immense pain he must be in, I'm surprised that he deflects two more punches with a broken arm and cracked ribs. Then I sweep his feet from under him and stomp on his chest. His breath comes in desperate wheezes.

"Are there any like you?" I demand, and he shakes his head. Another lie. I press my foot harder, my excellent hearing allowing me to percieve the very slight groan of his ribs in protest. I can only imagine how much it must be magnifying the pain he's feeling. "Where?"

"I'm not going to give him up to you," he growls weakly, defiant. His eyes are stony, his resolve set. He knows he about to die and he is resolute in the face of my glare. I'm surprised he's got the willpower to resist me, weak as he is, but I knew that some people found a hidden wellspring of courage in the face of their own demise. "Ra... ma.. He'll be safe from you."

Rama? That... That was a name I hadn't heard in a long time. Curiosity peaked, I shoved aside his protesting hands as I rifled through his dogi top. I found a leather-bound journal, held shut with a wide rubber band. I pulled it off and flipped the book open to a random page, grabbing a photo as it began to slip out.

"Oh my," I whisper to the man below me. I see the terror in his eyes at the look of wonder on my face. I ignore his repeated, weakened cries. The boy in the picture has eyes like I haven't seen for five thousand years. I turn to my fallen enemy. "This boy! He's not been tainted by the evil which made you what you are, has he?"

"No, he's... He's just a boy... Don't hurt him," he begs weakly, and honesty rings forth in his words.

"I won't hurt him," I tell the man, the vampire underneath me. "But I will be taking him."

As he yells his defiance, I feel his strength is coming back in the force he uses to try to pry my foot off his chest. I've toyed with him for too long. His wounds must be healing by now. If I wait any longer, he'll probably become a credible threat to me again. I can't allow that to happen. I reach down, grab his head, and wrench it to the side.

His neck snaps with an obscene crackle as bones shatter. I cave in his head to be sure.

I shut the journal and slip it into a pocket, then concentrate. Perhaps a kilometer or two deeper in the woods, I can hear a young man complaining to himself about his father being late. It must be the boy the corpse under my feet spoke of.

I ghost quietly through the woods, my feet barely making a whisper amidst the noise. I stop my breathing, knowing I can go for nearly an hour without having to draw another. Something tells me that I should approach with caution, so I do. He is completely unaware of me as I walk into the small clearing where he crouches, gazing into the fire and roasting a weiner on a pointed stick.

Like the man with the journal, he's wearing a stained and worn white dogi. He's probably about nine or ten years old and his long black hair is, strangely enough, pulled into a tight pigtail which snakes down his neck to lay a few inches below the level of his shoulders. I go to set a hand on his right shoulder and he moves with the speed of a striking cobra.

His left hand clamps with surprising strength on mine, yanking it forward and twisting my palm up. His right hand immediately comes up to my elbow and he stands and braces his feet, then twists his body and throws me forward. I flip in midair and land across from him on the other side of the fire. Or rather, across from where he'd stood. The cheeky little boy was already leaping across the fire with a foot extended.

I catch the ankle of his leading foot and swung him out to my left, leaving him dangling and glaring up at me.

"You're not my pops!" He pouts, his Japanese rough and uncultured. His eyes, I note, are not like Rama's: I could almost swear that they are his. Suddenly I'm five thousand years into the past. "Hey, blondie! Who're you!"

"My name is Alisa Perne," I tell him, then release my grip on his ankle. He smoothly extends his arms, bending at the elbows before springing to his feet in an impressive display of athleticism I would have thought beyond a human child.

"Nice to meet ya. So, are you here to train me?" He demands, sizing me up with a casual arrogance I had to admit was more brazen than any child I'd ever met before.

"Pardon me?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"Are. You. Gonna. Train. Me?" The boy repeats, slowly emphasizing each word. He shakes his head and turns his back. "Man, figures pop would hire a natural blond. A freakishly strong natural blond."

I hate blond jokes. I lash out with a fist, not seeking to do any permanent harm but enough to let the boy know that I'm the one in charge here. With an insulted-sounding snort, he leans forward and allows the backhand to whiz by the back of his head by a hair. Interesting.

"C'mon, you were able to sneak up on me. I know you can do better than that," the boy points out, turning to face me. If he wants better, I'll give it to him. I spin and lash out with a foot, faster than my backhand and aimed towards his chest. He grins and bends backward at the waist, noting with interest the way the it harmlessly arcs through the air right in front of him. "Almost hit me that time, cheerleader-chan."

"This time for real, then," I inform him. A fist blazes in at full speed and crashed into the side of his face. Luckily for the boy I'd held back most of my strength, intending only on knocking him flat on his back and teaching him a bit of respect. I'm surprised to discover that it only staggers him back a step or two, though it also puts a wary respect into his eyes.

"Not bad," the boy admits, rubbing his cheek. "I'm Ranma Saotome. My old man want you to teach me a trick or two?"

It's a better excuse than anything else to study the young man. Whatever else, his father was somehow connected to Yaksha. That speed of his was no more natural than his fathers. The journal in my pocket feels especially prominent as I ponder the problem.

I'm not averse to killing. I've even killed children before, when I had to. It's not something I relish, however. Perhaps I can figure something out.

"Yes, Genma wants you to stay with me for a little while. He's got some business elsewhere," I finally tell Ranma. The boy nods, accepting the fact and gathering his pack without another word. I gather the other pack and lead the boy back to my home. In Kyoto I'm simply Alisa Perne, a foreign exchange student staying at a large home. My hosts are simply away for the time being... The actors I hired to cover for me only have to put in an appearance when I need them to visit the school administration.

I get Ranma settled in the spare bedroom, and promise I'll be right back. I tell him I've got an errand to run and that I'll be gone for nearly an hour.

I don't tell him that my errand is disposing of his father's corpse.

oOo

It doesn't take me long to read Genma Saotome's journal and realize my mistake. It is filled with notes about where he and his son had been and what training he'd put his heir through. It occasionally mentions a marriage promise with the Tendo family in Nerima, who Genma had been planning on visiting when Ranma turned sixteen.

It makes no mention of vampirism, nor Yaksha. Either it was genuine and I'd killed a regular human being or it was an elaborate fake intended to throw me off guard if the assassin failed. Something told me it was the former. Ranma displayed the same sort of heightened speed and strength his father had possessed, albeit on a much smaller scale and I had almost no doubts he was a regular human.

Children with the hunger of my kind usually displayed very poor impulse control. Poor Ralphe.

Nevertheless, I wanted to keep an eye on him. Just in case.

It would also give me time to think, to figure out what to do with the child I'd orphaned. The child with my Rama's eyes. I certainly couldn't just cut the poor child loose, not after making an orphan of him. Nor did I particularly want to: I'd heard of humans with the sort of physical abilities this boy and his father had displayed, but in the five thousand years I've been alive I've never seen it in person.

I'd discounted the stories as simple stories told by people about things that couldn't really exist. Kind of like the stories about vampires, because obviously they don't exist either. I want to curse myself for my stupidity when I think about just how little sense my dismissal made when put into my own unique context.

A worry for another day.

How to keep Ranma from suspecting, though? I can't just tell him I've killed his father and he's going to suspect that something is amiss when he doesn't show up within a few weeks.

I eye the journal where it lays open on my desk. It occurs to me that I have a lot of practice with forgery and a perfect example of Genma Saotome's handwriting. With a bit of work, I can even give him a phony paper trail in case anyone wishes to check on him as he wanders from place to place, leaving his young son in my care.

Then one day his letters will stop, the papertrail will end with a boat leaving a dock someplace and never coming back.

When he's older, I'll never have to look into my long-dead husband's eyes and see hatred. Ranma will never have to know.

I smile.

oOo

Author's Notes

Uh, so... This is a crossover with Christopher Pike's Last Vampire series. I picked it up the other day because I was a fan of Spooksville. I'm decidedly mixed on my opinion on it: I really like the character of Alisa, but at the same time some portions of the books rub me the wrong way.

I'll be doing my best to integrate Alisa Perne into the story so that you won't HAVE to be familiar with The Last Vampire to enjoy this, but I imagine there'll be a lot of little bonuses for those who have read them. I'm sure if you're interested, you can find the series somewhere.

Just to clarify, in case it's not obvious... No, Genma wasn't a vampire. The evil that created Alisa was Yaksha, while the evil that made Genma what he is was Happosai. The dialogue was purposefully vague to allow Alisa and Genma to make their own assumptions based on the incorrect context. And for Genma fans... Sorry.

Chapters will flit between Ranma and Alisa's point of view. I'm trying first-person present for the tone of this story, since I've never done it before and it's the way the books were written.


	2. Chapter 2: Ranma

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 2: Ranma

oOo

"Hurry up, youbo-chan!" I call in English, and behind me Alisa just scowls and follows at a more sedate pace. She hates it when I make cracks about her age, so of course I do it all the time. She seems to get especially offended when I ask her how old she is, so of course I also do that.

"I've told you a hundred times, just call me oneechan or something if you need to give me a silly Japanese nickname!" She finally calls back.

We're hiking through the wilderness of China looking for training grounds. The training journal my father left Alisa when he saddled me with her says that there's a lot of really interesting places here. For my twelfth birthday, Alisa finally agreed to go for a small tour so that we can visit a temple located north of Beijing.

"I can't call you that, youbo-chan!" I inform her, grinning as her eyes narrow. "Someone clearly as old as you is more like a mother than anything, anyway, right?"

She lunges with that startling speed of hers and even prepared for it, she nearly tags me with the bamboo staff she's using as a walking stick as I leap for the trees. Without any pause she's rebounding off a tree trunk and chasing me through the branches of China's wilderness. I chuckle as I race with reckless abandon through the foliage, dodging her most of her strikes and wincing as a few slip through to hit me with just enough force to sting.

I'll say this about Alisa: She's not as good as me or my old man, but she's a hell of a lot faster. She's always pushing me to improve my speed, strength, and endurance. She's always pushing me to catch up. And while she generally holds back that freakish tomboy strength of hers, she's always used her full speed, or near enough, when it comes to training me.

The way she put it, back when she started training me, was that there was no reason for me to expect that my enemies wouldn't be faster. I had to learn to deal with it. My conditioning has grown quite a bit as a result of trying to keep up with her. Not to mention how much better my reflexes are, and how good I've gotten at sensing her presence.

Just as I land on a branch, the blond behind me flings her staff and takes out my ankles. Robbed of my footing, My ass bounces off the hard tree limb and I tumble painfully into the scratching undergrowth hugging the base of the trees.

The blue-eyed devil woman grins as me. "So what have we learned about calling me mother, kid?"

"I should get a bigger lead on you before I say it?" I ask with an impudent smirk, prompting another scowl. I guess the term is a little insulting. She's probably only ten years older than I am, which bodes well for my training when I finally finish my growth spurt and can actually put on some decent muscle mass. I point a finger at her. "Just you wait! In another couple of years, I'm gonna be taller than you. We'll see who's laughing then!"

"Sure," she says with a roll of her eyes.

Now that she's not moving I notice that she's a little pale. We've been away from any city for nearly a week now, so I guess her treatments are starting to wear off. Every few days when we're at home, she's got to go to the doctor or something to get some medicine of some kind. She says she's okay without it, says she can survive for a few months if she has to, but she always gets cranky and a little weak when we're away from cities.

I remember I once asked her why she didn't get medicine that was portable, but she laughed and told me it didn't really work like that.

It doesn't take us long to reach the temple. It's no surprise to me, but a nasty one to Alisa, to discover that the temple is long abandoned. Deciding to make the most of the trip, we set up our sleeping bags in the shelter of the main hall and use the wide-open space for sparring. As always, she very handily beats me. We spend a few days there before we have to start heading back.

oOo

"Ranma, calm down. I'm sure it's nothing, okay?" Alisa is doing her best to sound calm, but she sounds a little worried herself. We've just gotten back to our apartment in Kyoto and we'd found something disturbing.

Or not found, I guess. For the last two years my old man has sent me a letter like clockwork on the fifth of every month. Just like clockwork, I'd have a letter by the tenth day. We left for China on the twenty-fifth of last month. It was now the eleventh, and there's no letter waiting for me when we get back home.

"It's not like him to miss a letter," I growl stubbornly as I once more root through the pile of mail. Maybe I just missed the letter. There's an awful lot of mail here, so maybe it's just stuck to the bottom of one of the envelopes for Alisa.

I check two more times. Nothing.

"Look, Ranma, his last letter said he was going to be arriving back in Tokyo by boat on the twelfth, right?" Alisa asks, and I nod. She smiles. "Maybe he didn't send a letter because he knew he'd be seeing you soon? Who knows? We might see him again tomorrow! It's been two years, right? I'm sure he's eager to see you."

"Yeah, maybe," I admit slowly, but I know that's not it. My old man hadn't missed a letter in two years. Why wouldn't he let us know he was going to be back?

That night I sleep poorly. I've got a terrible feeling about the missing letter. I hate to admit it, but I miss my father. I wouldn't trade Alisa for anything, but that night I missed the snores which I'd always complained about when we were camping on the road.

oOo

I wake up the next morning and after doing some warm-up kata, I find that there's still no letter from my father, nor has he called to let us know he's in Tokyo and heading our way. Alisa promises to make a few phone calls to see what she can find out if another day goes by without word.

The next morning, youbo-chan's worry has begun to match my own. She takes the letter my father sent last month and gets the name of the boat he booked passage on, telling me she's going to call the company to see if the old man had actually made it to the boat in time for departure. That would explain him not being here, but not the lack of a letter.

My worry only grows as I watch my blond sensei as she makes the phone call. She speaks too quietly for me to hear the words, but I can see the way her eyes start to get wet as the conversation goes on... and I realize then that I've never seen her cry before. My stomach drops and I start to shake as she hangs up the phone with a shudder.

I slowly walk towards her.

"Pop's ship is gonna be late, huh?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light. If I wish hard enough, maybe...

"No, Ranma," she admits. "Your father's ship... It never made it to port. It left, but..."

"No," I whisper. I don't hear anything else she says, but I'm aware of her arms around me, pulling me close in a tight hug. The part of me that's just not used to being close to anybody wants to pull away. The rest of me clings to her desperately.

She whispers in my ear, telling me over and over again that it's going to be alright, that everything's going to be fine.

I'm not stupid. Things won't ever be fine again.

Stupid old man...

oOo

I don't really remember going back to school, or the first month of classes. Even the absolute joy I used to feel while sparring with Alisa was tainted by memories of sparring with my father. I go through each day woodenly, my attention to what I'm doing half-there at the best of times.

The next few months pass by in a blur. Some days I have to really push myself just to get up and go to school. Others I pretend I'm sick as I hope that Alisa doesn't see my puffy eyes. Real men don't cry, and I gotta be a real man. My pops always told me how important it was for me to be a man amongst men and I know I'm not living up to that every night I spend wallowing in my stupid emotions.

Youbo-chan knows when to give me a bit of space when I just want to be alone and knows when I need a quick hug or a small smile, sometimes before even I'm sure of what I want. During these months I notice, more and more, just how much she does for me.

Giving her that nickname had been a joke, but I quickly come to realize that it's nothing but the truth.

Slowly, I start to laugh again. It begins with a small smile when a classmate says a joke, bringing with it a long-forgotten sense of warmth and banishing my guilt for a time. After the smile leaves and takes the momentary warmth I felt along with it, I start to wonder if maybe it's okay to smile. A few days later I'm laughing along with the rest of my friends before I stop myself and when I do, my guilt feels a little lighter.

"You're adjusting," Alisa tells me when I ask her why it felt okay to smile and laugh again. She ruffles my hair and flashes me a grin. "I know things are different now. Nothing can bring back your father... Everyone carries in their heart the loss of people who can never be replaced, but nobody can dwell on that loss forever."

"He's dead, though. Is it really okay for me to be happy about that?" I ask her, and she shakes her head.

"Ranma, you don't have to be happy that he's gone. Never be happy about that." She pulls me into a tight hug, which I awkwardly return after a moment. She draws back and puts the knuckle of one gentle finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to hers. "Just remember that it's okay to be happy about everything else that's good in your life."

My guilt flees from the logic of what she's saying.

It's just silly of me to be so down about something I can't change. My father would want it to be that way. I can almost hear her saying the words in that electric gaze of hers, and it washes away my doubts and my fears.

I hug her once more.

"Now, what do you say we go out to the dojo and spar a bit?" Alisa asks with a grin, which I now feel comfortable enough to return. She taps the tip of my nose with her index finger. "You've been slacking on me, Ranma. Now you get to play catch up."

We spar. Like always, she wins, but by the end of it my grin matches hers almost exactly.

Things slowly get better, just like she promised me. It takes me months to break my habit of going through the mail on tenth, looking for a letter. Yet now when I find the letter isn't there, it causes me to smile.

I miss him. I always will. But I'm going to be the best, just like he wanted me to... And nobody who sat around and moped was ever the best at anything.

oOo

Author's Notes:

Youbo: Literally translated, Adoptive/Foster Mother. I hate to use gratuitous Japanese since I'm writing for an English audience, but two syllables for a term as specific as that was a must-have. Handwaved here by the fact that they were speaking English and Ranma has given Alisa a Japanese nickname. So nyah. Also, Adoptive Mother-chan just doesn't flow the same way.

I hadn't given the Tendo sisters much thought, but it suddenly occurs to me that Nabiki and Alisa are going to mix like oil and water.


	3. Chapter 3: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 3: Alisa

oOo

I leap from one branch to the next, eyes darting frantically around the forest. He's here. I know he is... but he's gotten so good at disguising himself that I can't sense him. My sense of smell tells me that he's somewhere nearby, but he's taken to bathing at least twice a day whenever possible to keep me from pinpointing his location via strong odors. Likewise, he's wrapped his chest in thick bandages. They don't muffle his heartbeat completely, but it does mean he'll be close enough to strike me by the time I can actually hear him.

I want to curse to myself about it, but I know that he's probably at least roughly aware of where I am and I don't want to give him the advantage of knowing exactly where. I come to a large clearing and stand in the center, closing my eyes and focusing on my hearing. That should give me the edge I need.

Today's training is simply a game of tag. Ranma has to lay his palm flat on me to win. To date, he's never won a game... but every time we play, he comes closer and closer. The last time we played, he actually came within thirty feet of me before I even sensed his presence. Closer than that and I can hear his heartbeat and smell his scent, even if he's bathed within minutes.

As I wait and listen for his approach, I once again wonder at the sort of potential humanity displays. The young man I've cared for for the last six years has grown by leaps and bounds under my training. He is now every bit as skilled as his father was when I met him, if not more so. His strength, his speed, and his endurance... They have grown immensely.

He is not quite as strong as me, nor is he quite as fast. Indeed, he is even a lot more fragile than I am... Yet the gap between us is forever growing more and more slim. Were he of a mind to try to attack me, these days I would not engage in that confrontation unless forced: His own prowess aside, he knows many of my tricks and fighting quirks.

Nobody has come this close to having the skills and strength to kill me for centuries. I'm very glad that the thought would never occur to him to hurt me.

At the edge of the meadow, approaching from upwind of me, I hear light footsteps. I leap in the opposite direction at the second step, my eyes snapping open and wondering how he could disguise his scent so completely. Where the footsteps had fallen I see no sign of the raven-maned teenager living with me.

Warm, strong arms grab me in a hug and I hear a chuckle. I spin and see Ranma's smile widen at the shocked look on my face.

"How?" I sputter, for once at a loss for words. He just chuckles and opens his palm, revealing a handful of pebbles. "You tricked me!?"

"There's no way I can catch you," Ranma admits, dropping the pebbles to the ground and casually dusting the dirt from his hands. "I'm not fast enough. And as good as I am, I know that I ain't gonna ever be able to actually sneak right up to you. So I waited until you stopped and closed your eyes. I stood downwind and made you think I was approaching from upwind, and by the time you realized what I was doing I'd caught you. It was pretty simple, actually."

"I'm impressed," I tell the handsome young man, stepping forward and giving him a hug. His grin grows flustered and his beautiful blue eyes, Rama's eyes, widen.

"C'mon, youba-chan!" He protests.

Outwardly I just smile, and reach up to ruffle his hair. He bats my hand away with a grin and then starts to head back to our camp. As soon as his back turns, my smile falls.

Youba-chan. That damned nickname. He's old enough to be mine. That nickname, which has endured for the last six years between us, has been a more effective barrier to my attempts to make him see me as more than a mother-figure than anything else.

The time he's spent with me? Negligible – I see the way he looks at me when he thinks that I'm not watching. The adolescent part his brain that is flooding his body hormones is telling him just how good I look. I've even hinted at things before, joking, and he's universally shot them down.

He clings to the nickname like a life preserver, thrusts it up whenever the innuendo starts to get inside his head, make him start to wonder if maybe the jokes aren't jokes at all. He wants me and at the same time is terrified of being with me and it's probably the most frustrating thing I've ever dealt with.

The worst part is that his mind is so damned strong. There have been times when I've been... Perhaps not desperate, but impatient, and I've tried to coerce him. Not directly, never that. If he ever realized, he was more than skilled enough to make sure that I'd never get the opportunity again. Yet every time I've used my vampiric talents to try to break down those walls which stand between us, his mind happily reinforces them almost automatically.

I think perhaps part of the problem is my previous impatience for him to mature. In his youth I'm sure he saw me go out with another man at least a time or two: Some pretty boy from Harajuku or a businessman I met at an airport bar. I have no doubts that when he first became old enough to have a crush on me, that tainted the feelings he was developing.

Damn the Japanese and their cultural obsession with firsts. First kiss, first girlfriend, first lover... I've seen enough of life to know that those things don't really matter in the long run. It shouldn't matter to the boy if I've slept with dozens of men in the last decade or not. He clearly loves me and wants me.

I don't see the problem at all. Sooner or later, maybe he'll stop seeing the problem. I've considered manipulating him into falling for some of the sluts at his middle school so that he realizes that sex isn't really a major thing, but he's been so negative about them that I come back to the problem of being unable to effect him that directly in the first place.

Perhaps, I muse, high-school will change him. Whatever other problems I have the Japanese, they certainly don't have any issues with under-aged drinking. They even enable the delinquent children by having beer and other alchohol in vending machines. I'm hoping that he'll get drunk and do something that will make him emotionally wounded enough to come to me for comfort.

Not an ideal solution, but the most likely, I admit. His friends aren't the biggest party animals around, but I've seen enough of Japanese high school to know that that will probably change the first time the students get a few days off. With the constant stress and work, the kids will be willing to try anything to blow off some steam.

Ranma grins as he looks up from the cooking fire and I grin back. Tomorrow we'd be back home. His first day of school starts in a week.

oOo

Two days later I'm sitting in the living room reading the newspaper when Ranma walks in with the mail. He casually flicks each envelope towards me as he sits and lounges on a chair, trusting me to catch them. Of course I do catch them, shooting him an annoyed look the entire time while he struggles to maintain the bored look on his face, fighting a mischievous smirk.

It's an old game, one we've played for years. He gets to the fifth envelope and pauses, not flicking it towards me. This isn't part of the game. Instantly his face transforms from playful to curious.

"What is it?" I ask, prompting a raised eyebrow as he looks at me.

"I'm not sure. It seems I've got a letter, youba-chan," he replies with a grin. I roll my eyes.

"It's probably your friend Ryouga. You haven't seen him since we moved to Tokyo, right?" I point out, to which he shrugs. The rest of the envelops addressed to me are thrown quickly in my direction and I start to sort the bills which need to be addressed from the bills which are automatically taken from my bank as the cute teenager sitting across from me rips the edge of the letter open and extracts the paper.

I notice his smile vanish and I hear a sharp intake of breath, prompting me to turn my attention back towards him.

"Alisa... It's a letter from my mom," Ranma whispers.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Ranma never mentioned his mother to me, not once in the last six years. I never sent her any letters from Genma. If she contacts him, my whole deception could come flying apart at the seams. Damn!

"I thought she was dead," the blue-eyed boy mutters, turning his gaze from the letter to meet mine. So perhaps my plans aren't beyond repair, after all.

"Your dad never mentioned her?" I ask carefully, injecting sympathy into my voice. He shakes his head mutely, turning his attention back to the letter. "What does the letter say?"

"Nothing much," Ranma admits, frowning a bit. "She just says she ain't heard from my old man in ten years and she's wondering if he's kept his promise. I don't think she knows, Alisa."

"What do you want to do? It's going to be hard enough for her to meet you after not seeing you for a decade, let alone learning she's been a widow for six years," I point out. He nods glumly.

"I gotta go see her," He finally says. He stands up and stretches. "The address says she's not far from here. I can hop a train to Nerima and be there to see her in a couple of hours. I should probably shower and change into something nice, first."

"_You_ are not going to see her," I tell him firmly, my face serious. At his startled look, I flash him a grin. "We are both going. You're not getting rid of me that easily, Ranma Saotome."

"Why would I want to do a silly thing like that?" Ranma asks, scratching the back of his neck. He then grows serious for a moment. "Although..."

"You!" I growl, hurling a pillow at him. He ducks it with a laugh, ignoring it as it hits the wall with a muted thud. I point towards the hallway. "Shower, now! After you get ready, I will, then we can just drive over to see her."

"Sounds like a plan," Ranma tells me with a grin, wandering out.

I wonder how badly this is going to mess up my designs for the pigtailed youth. Far sooner than I'm ready, we're out the door and driving through Tokyo's streets towards a woman I never thought I'd have to meet.

As we pull into the driveway, the first thing I notice is that the woman is well-off. Certainly not nearly as rich as I am, but I'd be very surprised if she had to work for a living. The property is not large, but the strict state of repair of the grounds and the stone wall tell me that this woman does not have to worry about money.

I'm a little apprehensive as we stroll up to the front entrance. I'd never accounted for, nor expected this. This was a woman who could spoil everything, a woman who could easily bring to bear more influence on the martial artist at my side than I could.

She was very likely a traditional woman, judging by the design of the house. I winced slightly at that. Traditionally, the Japanese people took a very dim view of outsiders.

Everything I'd been planning for the last six years could very well rest on how the next six minutes played out.

"Are you ready?" I quietly ask Ranma as we pause before the front door.

Ranma nods without speaking, then knocks.

oOo

Author's Notes:

Quick note on Japanese schools: Elementary school runs until a student is roughly twelve years old. Middle school runs from twelve to fifteen. High school is optional and runs from sixteen onward.

Alright, so everybody's probably wondering why Ranma was running around with the Umisenken there at the beginning. The thing is, he wasn't. Simple, repeated practice with Alisa meant he soon learned that she always knew where he was, and that lead to him devising better and better methods of sneaking up on her.

You'll also note I'm not really pulling any punches with the sort of person Alisa is. She's manipulative, and at some times she is very, very selfish. She seperates sex and love and generally only considered a monogamous relationship out of concern for losing a loved one, not out of any personal belief.

Next chapter... Ranma meets Nodoka! And the cast for this story will consist of more than Ranma and Alisa again!


	4. Chapter 4: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 4: Alisa

oOo

The woman opens the door with a small smile, which I return. Her dark brown hair is highlighted with red tints, which my excellent vision tells me is actually her natural hair colour. Her face has high cheekbones and a pointed jaw, highlighted by delicate features surrounding blue, almond-shaped eyes.

I feel Ranma tense up next to me at her appearance, feel the apprehension in a million little tells hidden in his body language. A small part of me is grateful for that tension since I know it will be another layer keeping his mother from taking him away from me.

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" Her voice is polite, but distant.

"Saotome Nodoka?" Ranma asks, his voice oddly subdued. The woman nods and he tries a small smile of his own. "Uh, I'm Saotome Ranma. I'm your son."

"M-my son?" The woman gasps, and she quickly grabs the boy in a hug, which he returns after shooting me a helpless look. She reluctantly breaks the embrace, her hands clutching the silk of his shirt as she eyes him critically. "It's been so long! Where's your father? Who's this young lady with you? A girlfriend?"

"Uh, dad's... I guess I can explain that inside. And... Youba-chan a girlfriend?" Ranma sputters, and I nearly wince at the nickname and the denial in his voice.

"Please, come inside! I'm sure you have much to tell me," Nodoka says, turning and quickly hustling inside. We follow more sedately, slipping off our shoes and slipping on the guest slippers in the entrance hall. Her face peers around a corner. "Please, make yourselves comfortable while I prepare some tea."

We move into the small living room and sit at the small table. My eyes travel around the room, noting that one wall is dominated by a stand containing an old, if well-maintained set of weapons. A wazikashi and tanto lay on the rack, sheaths covered by a light dust which indicates they don't see much use. The katana's covering, on the other hand, is polished to a light gleam marred only by the occasional fingerprint I'd bet matched the dainty hands of our host.

Outside, the trees whistle with the occasional gust of wind, not yet ready to give up their hold on their leaves. Autumn will win that war sooner or later.

I look up as Nodoka enters, carrying a tea set. She kneels and pours the three of us cups of tea before Ranma speaks.

"I guess the first thing I should tell you is about dad," Ranma begins, staring down into his tea before his gaze lifts to meet his mother's. He pauses before continuing. "Four years ago, he was coming to reunite with me after he'd left me training with Alisa for two years. He was taking a passenger ship called 'Nanoha's Staff' when they hit a storm three days out from India. Everyone aboard was lost at sea."

"I... I see," Nodoka says, voice subdued. She stands. "If you'll excuse me for a moment..."

Ranma watches helplessly as she leaves the room. He can't hear her crying in the room she'd fled to, can't hear the muffled sobs as the woman pressed the pillow to her face. I can hear them as if the woman were crying onto my shoulder. It's not very pleasant.

"Should I go see her, or?" Ranma asks, conflicted. The woman is his mother and at the same time, a stranger.

"Leave her for a few moments," I finally say, shaking my head. I don't want to risk the woman breaking his heart by rejecting him. She's just heard of her beloved husband's death from her estranged son. I doubt she wants to see him at the moment.

"I just don't know what to do," the pigtailed teen admits to me, sipping his tea. His blue eyes trace around the room as if the walls could offer him the solution I cannot.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. As Ranma tenses to stand up, I am already on my feet.

"Youba-chan?" Ranma mutters, scowling. He raises one eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be the one to go and check on her?"

"You should be, but you're not going to," I tell him, wagging one finger. "You are not much better at dealing with people than your father was. I, on the other hand, had a normal upbringing. Plus, I can talk to your mother and not remind her of what she's lost. Okay?"

"Sure," Ranma says, settling back down. He offers a subdued smile. "Just don't give away everything about the last six years. I want to be the one to tell her pops did good in making me the best."

"I promise, you'll get to show her before we leave," I reply with a grin. I get up and leave the room, making my way unerringly through the house to the room where Nodoka Saotome lay sobbing into a pillow.

oOo

The first thing I notice about the room is how barren it feels. Aside from the woman who hasn't notice me enter, only a small picture sits on one bedside table. No other decorations mark the walls or any other available surface. Like the katana in the living room, her bedside table shows the cleanliness of recent use while the other bedside table shows the same level of sporadic cleaning as the tanto and wazikashi.

My delicate nose also also notes that, surprisingly, the bedroom has only been used for sleeping. Ten years without her husband and she hadn't been unfaithful, at least not since the last time the carpet had been changed. The only scent lingering in the room is hers. I'm not sure whether I respect her dedication or pity it.

I move to Nodoka's side, carefully sitting down on the bed next to her. Red eyes turn from the pillow to look at me.

"I'm very sorry that you had to learn of Genma like this, Saotome-san," I tell her quietly, and she blinks. I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My name is Alisa Perne."

"How did you know my Genma?" She asks, her eyes slightly narrowing. I know what must be going through her mind and, remembering the one night I'd met the man, the thought repulses me. His son? Absolutely. The man himself? Never.

"I met Genma through a mutual acquaintance in the martial arts community six years ago," I tell her quietly, causing her suspicions to fade. I smile. "My fighting style focuses more on training one's body and your husband wished for me to work with Ranma to increase his speed, strength, and endurance."

"I remember he called you youba-chan," the woman admits with a sniffle, and she chuckles as I allow a flash of irritation to cross my face. "I'll admit you don't look like the motherly type. You can't be much older than my son, come to think of it."

"I'll admit I'm a few years older than I look," I tell her, only off by five thousand or so. "However, I'm not so old that I'm anywhere near being like a mother to that boy."

"You'd like to be something else, then?" The woman asks slyly with a broad smile.

"I'll admit that in the time I've known him, Ranma's grown up to become a very fine young man," I tell her carefully, causing the older woman to chuckle.

"I'm glad to hear that," the woman says, her gaze flickering to the drawer of her bedside table, strangely enough. I put the thought from my mind as she pouts a bit. "I must look an awful mess right now, don't I?"

"A little bit," I admit with a small smile.

"Let me go wash my face and then we can go back and see Ranma, Perne-san" she tells me.

"Call me Alisa, Saotome-san," I tell her.

"Only if you call me Nodoka, Perne-san," she replies with a grin.

oOo

The look on Ranma's face as his mother and I walk back into the living room giggling is priceless. The way his jaw drops makes me yearn for a digital camera to capture the astonished look, just to show it to him later.

While Nodoka had washed her face and made herself look presentable, I'd filled in the last six years of Ranma's life with broad strokes. I kept secret just how much Ranma had grown as a fighter, telling her that she would see the truth of the matter soon enough.

"Now, Alisa tells me that you and she are both very accomplished fighters, son," Nodoka says, sitting an instant after I do and sipping her tea. "I wonder if you would care to show me just how far you've come?"

"Sure, if that's what you want," Ranma says, rising. After taking a sip of my tea I join him as we walk into the yard, Nodoka following. He leans over to me. "So do we go all out or what?"

"You're going to fight to the best of your ability, Ranma Saotome," I whisper back with a grin, delighting in the way his face goes pale at my statement. We only rarely fight like this, being that such fights are usually short and painful for the boy. I intend to hold back, long enough for him to give a good showing, but not long enough for his mother to doubt if there's more I can teach him. If I demonstrate that her son still has some way to go before catching up to me, I can leave here today with the battered boy and her blessings.

"Nodoka, we'll be fighting until one of us submits or falls unconscious," I inform the woman, who nods. Ranma groans to himself, to which I grin and add, "Your son doesn't generally give up, so if there's anything you'd like to say to him before we leave..."

"Very funny, youba-chan!" Ranma sputters, running towards me.

As always, he is the more skilled fighter. Even as I attempt a flurry of punches, he redirects them and buries a fist into my side. I ignore what is, for me, a light hit and try to sweep his feet from underneath him. He cartwheels over my leg and tries to clip my jaw with his heel, grazing my cheek as I snap my head back.

From there, he springs away and the momentum of the battle shifts towards me. The pigtailed boy puts on a valiant defense, several times shifting the favour of the battle enough that I have to defend myself for a few moments before returning to my inevitable victory, but as always, this isn't enough to save him.

Before long, a punch glances off his side, drawing a sharp intake of breath and a pained wince on his face. He deflects three more hits before attempting to spring away. I catch his foot and release it, leaving him hanging in the air for a moment as I step forward, grab the back of his shirt, and slam him into the turf with a loud thud. He rolls with the momentum of my attack, turning the potential knock out into a merely stunning hit, rising to his feet unsteadily.

"Good work, Ranma. I thought that one would have had you," I tell him. He nods to me once, his eyes glassy. I step forward and I can see the expectation of pain on his face. "Let's continue, shall we?"

He almost puts up a fight for the next minute, dodging frantically and even attempting to counter-attack a few times when he's feeling particularly ambitious. The inevitable happens, however, as he rises from a crouch and my knuckles deflect off of the side of his head. He falls in a boneless heap.

I hear slow applause from the deck of the house, and see Nodoka reappraising me with a frank look on her face. I offer her a small grin in turn.

"I see what you mean about my son's prowess," the auburn-haired woman admits to me, crossing out on to the grass. She peers down with concern at her son, tapping the point of her jaw with one finger. "Though he does have a fair way to go before he catches up to you, Alisa."

"Indeed he does, Nodoka," I reply, bending down to check his wounds. As always, he's not going to be happy when he wakes up, but I've avoided inflicting anything too harmful on him over the course of our little match. I glance up at the woman. "Genma asked me to do my best with Ranma, and I don't like leaving something half-finished."

"You'd like to keep Ranma with you for a little while longer," Nodoka says sadly.

"It might be for the best," I tell her, rising with Ranma in my arms, bridal-style. She doesn't comment on the comical sight of a small woman like myself picking up a larger young man. "I know you're eager to be with your son again. However, you don't really know one another. I don't want you two to rush into this and spoil things for yourselves."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Nodoka says, her face going thoughtful.

"I'll make sure Ranma visits you frequently," I tell her seriously.

"I've got a better idea," Nodoka says, smiling. "There's a school nearby, Furinkan High. I know the vice principal very well. Perhaps Ranma could transfer there? It would make it easier for him to come and visit me. What do you think?"

"That sounds fine," I tell her with a smile. Inwardly I frown. This might give her the leverage she needs to take him away from me, but I can tell she'll be deflected for now if I agree.

"Thank you, Alisa." Ranma's mother grins, fetching a piece of paper and a pen. "If you'll tell me his current information, I can get the transfer started in time for Ranma to attend Furinkan on the first day."

Before I depart with Ranma, I give her the information but inwardly I feel a sense of apprehension. Something about the name Furinkan High puts me on edge.

oOo

Author's Notes:

You'll notice that I didn't switch perspectives for this chapter like I have for the others. I didn't go with Ranma mainly because I felt Alisa's viewpoint was more relevant to the situation, which is going to be my guide for the choice of perspective in the future. Locking myself into a specific order would mean a decline in quality, since there'll be times when Ranma or Alisa won't have anything relevant to contribute.

Someone pointed out via PM that I made a mistake last chapter when Alisa mentioned that Ranma's mother has been a widow for six years, pointing out that Alisa should have said four. Yes. She _should_ have as that's a very telling mistake to let slip, isn't it?

Don't be surprised if my chapter a day pace slows down. Just fair warning, boys and girls.


	5. Chapter 5: Ranma

Echoes of the Past

**Quick Note: This comes on the heels of a chapter I uploaded last night. Check and make sure you've read Chapter 4 if you want this to make sense.**

oOo

Chapter 5: Ranma

oOo

"This sucks," I informed the woman driving the car. She grins at me from the driver's seat of her BMW, shifting the gears of her vehicle with practiced ease and speeding up as we hit the express lane. I shift the bag at my feet, cursing the lack of legroom. The miniature sports car has plenty of room for _her, _of course, but she's a few inches shorter than me and a lot more narrow.

"Take it like a man, Ranma," Alisa tells me with a smug look, down-shifting as we reach the turn. She screeches around the corner, drawing an annoyed look from me, before pulling to a stop in front of Furinkan High. She elbows me into action. "Out. Enjoy your first day of school."

"And while I get to do all of this, you'll be doing what, exactly?" I retort, giving her an evil glance.

"Buying the correct uniform for you, since the one you're wearing doesn't fit in here. Leasing a condo with roof access so you won't have a forty minute trip to school and I won't have to drive for an hour and twenty minutes every morning," her annoyed glance grows smug. "Probably sitting and relaxing with a nice cup of coffee for the four hours after that. I've got an appointment with a realtor in fifteen minutes and I placed the order for your uniform the day after we saw your mother."

"I hate you, youba-chan," I growl, getting out of the car. Alisa flashes me a grin and speeds off. I ignore the strange looks I get from several of the students milling around near the front of the gate and take a look at my new school.

In a word, it's boring. Not much different from the school I was going to be going to originally, except for the nameplate. One thing I'm thankful for is the fact that my dorky uniform isn't as bad as the other dorky uniforms here. The boys uniform for the school I was originally going to be attending, the uniform I'm wearing right now, is a pair of comfortable grey slacks, black running shoes, and a white dress shirt with the school's logo embroidered on the left breast. The boys uniform for Furinkan appears to be the dark-blue, tight shirt jacket and pants combination some schools prefer.

I'm not looking forward to wearing it.

Ignoring all of the boys dressed in sports club gear and eyeing the gate with wary anticipation, I stroll into the school and check my schedule before making my way to class. I'd missed the very first day of Furinkan, having to meet with the principal of my previous school to finalize the transfer here. I find my way to my class and sit.

Focusing on reading my textbook, I barely notice as a long, raven-haired girl rushes into class an instant before the bell rings.

oOo

It takes effort for me not to fall asleep in English class. Serious effort.

It's not just the fact the teacher is boring. He is very, very boring. Nor is it the fact that I'm a lazy student, as that was a habit Alisa beat out of me very soon after I began staying with her. No, the reason I'm having difficulty staying away is because Alisa and I have been speaking English at home for the last four or five years.

And French. And Mandarin. Every year or two, Alisa picks a new language and slowly switches from the one she's taught me to speak to a new one. I can have conversations in all of them and Alisa keeps me guessing by switching between them when we're alone.

It's useful when we go to Europe or China. My goal is to learn as many languages as Alisa knows, though I'm amazed at the amount. I've never seen her stumped by what someone's said to her and I've seen her speak in at least a dozen languages.

It's hard to want to pay attention to the teacher when I'm pretty sure I can speak better English than he can. My head begins to droop...

"Mr Saotome!" My head snaps up. I guess I failed a bit. Oops. The teacher glares at me over his glasses, gesturing sharply to the board. "Since it seems we're boring you, would you please read this sentence out loud?"

"Yeah, yeah," I groan, standing and stretching. Without bothering to wait for further prompting, I begin to read aloud. "After you create a gamer profile and save it to a storage device, you can customize you're profile and set personal settings."

I pause at the blank look on the teachers face before grinning and switching to Japanese.

"And teach, next time you decide to copy English out of a video game instruction manual, make sure you check it for proper grammar. The way it says "you're" is wrong. It should simply be "your" up there," I point out. I notice I'm getting a lot of stares from the people in the class. "What?"

"Saotome?" The teacher asks quietly.

"Yes, sensei?" I ask, sitting down.

"You may go back to sleep," he tells me finally, shaking his head.

"Right," I say. I don't actually go back to sleep. My brief brush with the land of dreams has, for the moment, refreshened me enough that that won't be a worry.

I appreciate the thought, though.

oOo

It begins at lunch.

I'm sitting alone under the shade of a tree, eating the bento Alisa bought for me at a convenience store. I'd argued that if she was going to be in Nerima for the day anyway, she could bring me something hot. She'd told me that she had plans for the day that included a spa, a masseuse, a trained beautician, and no stress whatsoever. Not to mention the expensive coffee she was no doubt enjoying.

I'd told her her plans sucked. She'd pointed out that they sucked for me, then promised that we'd go get something to eat after she picked me up from school. Fair enough, but still.

I'm sitting under the tree when the first girl comes up and asks if it's okay to sit next to me. Having no reason to object, I agree. Then two more girls show up and briefly give the first girl a glare before asking the same thing. Wanting to keep the peace, I agree that they can sit as well.

The group is now twenty students strong. Mainly, I note, girls from my English class alongside one or more other girls I presume are their friends.

"So Saotome-san, where did you learn English?" One of girls asks, pretty much as soon as I set aside my bento. I can choose to be rude and escape or I can play nice. I decide that if I'm going to be here for a while, I may as well play nice.

"My sensei taught me," I reply, relaxing against the tree.

"Your sensei?" Another girl asks, and I fix my gaze on her. Not one of the girls in my class. In fact, she's probably a year older than me. Brown hair cut sharply at the shoulders frames a pretty face, though her eyes could give Alisa's a run for their money when it comes to how crafty they look. This is a girl with a lot of intelligence.

"Yeah. She's been teaching me martial arts ever since I was ten," I tell her, which causes a murmur among the assembled girls. I hear one of them whisper something about abs, but I ignore it. "Whenever we're at home, she says I've got to train my mind as well as my body. English, French, Mandarin... She expected me to learn them all."

"So you can speak three languages?" The girl asks, raising one eyebrow with a dry smile.

"Nope. I can speak four," I reply with a grin. "We're speaking Japanese right now, aren't we?"

This causes whispers all around us once again, though this time they're slightly fearful and several of the girls around us cast glances at the one questioning me. Interesting.

"I believe you may be right," the girl admits with a chuckle. "So what sort of martial arts do you know?"

"I've picked up a dozen styles or so in the years I've spent training," I say with a shrug, to more whispers from the audience. None of the girls aside from my questioner appear to want to intrude in the conversation. "My main style is the Saotome School of Anything Goes."

"Anything Goes?" The girl demands sharply, leaning forward eagerly. "I thought the Tendo Dojo here in Nerima was the only place which practiced it. Did you or your sensei learn from them?"

"Nope. Saotome School, like I said. It's a family style. My dad taught it to me right from when I took my first steps," I point out, wondering at the lack of whispers now. "I wasn't even aware that anyone but the Saotome family practiced it. My father never took on any students during the time he was alive."

"The Tendo family style is fairly well known around here," the girl informs me. She waves the subject off, changing her tone. "You implied that your father wasn't your sensei any longer. Who is, then?"

"She's a private person," I tell the girl evenly, crossing my arms. "I don't mind telling you all about myself," emphasizing the all part as if the girls around me are part of the conversation, "but Alisa likes to keep her business to herself. I've got to respect that."

"So her name is Alisa, then?" The girl asks with a sly grin. I wince.

"While we're talking about names, what's yours?" I ask.

"My name is Nabiki," the girl says with a small smile. Her voice goes lofty. "I'll tell you my last name when you tell me your sensei's."

"Alright, what's her last name?" I ask another girl, who wordlessly shakes her head. I look at her friend. "It ain't that hard, what's her last name?"

"Not me," the girl says raising her hands in a warding gesture.

"Do not bandy words with this one, friend," a voice proclaims from behind me, and I turn to see a young man in a blue hakama. He gives Nabiki a glare before turning his attention to me. "Nabiki Tendo has a strange habit of emerging on top in such matters. It would ill-befit the Blue Thunder not to warn his underclassmen about the threat she represents."

"Thanks sempai," I say, and the young man simply nods before walking away. "Nabiki Tendo, huh? I suppose the Tendo family that practices the Tendo School of Anything Goes is another Tendo family entirely?"

"Not at all," the girl admits, frowning in the direction the Blue Thunder disappeared.

The bell rings, warning against the end of lunch.

"Well, Tendo-san, I guess I'll be seeing you around... Either here or at your dojo," I tell the older girl. She nods distractedly as I leave.

The rest of the day passes quietly.

oOo

Alisa roars to a stop ten meters from the gates of the school, drawing a lot of stares from the students. Especially the boys. She's got the top down on her sports car and the sight of a young blond woman sitting outside a Japanese high school isn't exactly common.

Especially not an attractive one. I pause at that thought and smack myself. No, Ranma! Bad thoughts! That's youba-chan!

I toss my bag in the back of the car, ignoring the incredulous looks the guys shoot my way as I hop over the door and settle into the passenger seat. I've barely clicked in my seatbelt when Alisa guns the engine, accelerating away.

In the side-view mirror, I notice Nabiki Tendo watching us drive away. Grinning.

"I learned something interesting at school today," I tell my guardian. Shooting me a curious look while somehow managing to shift gears and dart between a dangerously narrow gap in traffic, she prompts me to continue. "It seems my family isn't the only one which practices Anything Goes."

"Really?" Alisa down-shifts as we approach a corner, turning the corner hard enough to throw my bag into the driver's side of the car in the rear. She flashes me a grin. "I guess you'd like to go see this family, and how their style stacks up against yours?"

"You got it," I confirm with a grin.

"Well, it'll have to wait," the blond tells me, prompting a groan as she raises a finger, showing me the set of keys jangling there. "Sorry Ranma, but we've got to move all of the furniture we like tonight and get the condo set up. We've got the penthouse of a nearby building and I'd prefer we get settled tonight so I don't have to do this drive again tomorrow."

"Fair enough," I concede, settling deeper into the passenger seat. After a moment, I glance hopefully in her direction. "Any chance that all the moving we'll be doing tonight will get me out of training?"

"Now, Ranma... Are you telling me that moving a single truck's worth of furniture is going to exhaust the mighty warrior enough that he won't be able to keep up with one girl like me?" Alisa asks with a pout.

"One girl like you could kick my ass from here to Hokkaido," I tell her dryly, crossing my arms. "Plus, the mighty warrior has homework, since you insisted he actually go to high school."

"Well in that case, the mighty warrior is going to be getting a little less sleep than he wants," she points out,firmly, accelerating as we hit an open stretch of road.

I groan.

oOo

Author's Notes:

I know, I know. This wasn't nearly as exciting as Ranma's canon first day of school. However, I refuse to play through things by having this Ranma repeat canon without any good reason for him to do so. Yes, he'll probably learn of the Tendo agreement and such, but I'm not having Ranma and Alisa just decide to go and freeload when there's no real reason either of them would want to.

It's something I see in far too many stories where someone else takes over Ranma's guardianship. This, I think, is far more interesting, and gives Nabiki a reason to investigate Ranma and his sensei as well as giving Akane a reason to interact with Ranma beyond simply being a classmate.


	6. Chapter 6: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 6: Alisa

oOo

Despite my charge's groaning and protests, once we reach our home we find the rental truck waiting and manage to start filling it rather quickly. Lifting a desk over my head and grinning at the pigtailed boy as he ducks under one end I smile to myself as I realize that around this young man, despite all the lies I tell him, I can be more true to myself than I've been in centuries.

While I've been had to fight for friends and lovers in the past, never have I been so open about my abilities... and when I was forced to use my vampiric attributes, I've never been pushed to the brink the way I do when I fight Ranma. Taken all at once, he can't force me to use my full strength, speed, and durability... Yet there've been times when he's nearly matched my strength or speed.

I duck obligingly under a couch as Ranma hefts it into the truck with ease, flashing him a grin that mirrors the one he'd flashed me. It's this which surprises me, I know. Every man I've ever fallen for before, they clung to the illusions of my humanity. They let me bring out my vampiric nature when it was necessary to protect our lives, but didn't like me using it so casually as I can use it around my blue-eyed companion.

Even when I've totally unleashed my strength or speed, Ranma has never reacted with fear. I remember a few months after I first took him for my student, he'd stepped onto the street without looking both ways. A drunk driver pulled out from behind a parked car and sped towards the red light, about to run the light and run my young charge down.

I've never moved so fast as I did that night in Hong Kong, nearly teleporting from where I stood admiring a dress in a shop window to a spot between the car and Ranma. Every muscle within me flexed and I shredded my highheel shoes as I dug my toes through the asphalt underneath me, catching the front of the economy car and crushing the front end.

I vividly remember turning to face Ranma, wondering if I'd see fear or revulsion in his eyes. I'd certainly not expected to see unadultered awe on his face when I faced him.

"You gotta teach me to do that," he'd told me firmly, grinning.

"Only if you really think you can learn to do it," I'd told him, not expecting him to ever really be able to do it.

As I've come to expect of him, he found a way.

We load the truck in a mere twenty minutes, packing our favourite chairs or tables, as well as our beds. I've already arranged for someone to drop off my Mazda at the new place and pick up my BMW from our old by the time we hop into the front cab of the rental truck and begin driving.

oOo

The penthouse is mostly barren when we arrive, prompting me to wonder just what the realtor thought I'd been asking for when I'd asked for a fully-furnished place. It has a minimal entertainment suite with a single love seat and a TV nearly as old as Ranma. The master bedroom has a desk and a bed I'd have expected more in a cheap American motel, not a Japanese penthouse rental. The second bedroom has a floor desk and the sort of flat futon most families keep for guests.

Even the kitchen has a table set the realtor probably bought from the Japanese analogue of Ikea.

"Wasn't this supposed to be fully furnished, youba-chan?" Ranma quips from the arch entering into the area I'd been told was the dining room. Joining him at the arch, I see a lot of room and a distinct lack of a dining set. He flashes me a smile. "Look on the bright side, we don't have to move the crap out of the room to use it for practice. And with the fifteen-foot ceiling... It's not bad for a dojo."

"As long as we don't mind losing the deposit," I add dryly, my glance taking in the fragile drywall which lines the room. One good throw from either of us would pretty much guarantee that the money would be gone.

"Tell them they can keep the deposit when we actually get a fully furnished apartment," Ranma snorts, before sighing and eyeing the elevator. "I suppose we should unload that truck so you can take it back, huh?"

"You mean, 'You suppose we should unload that truck so I can leave it for the agency to pick up', right?" I grin.

"Wait, so you get the place to drop the truck off and pick it up, but don't bother getting people to actually move any of our crap from our old place to this apartment?" Ranma demands incredulously.

"Just think of it as strength training, kiddo," I tell him in a sage-like tone.

"Just think of it as you not trusting the jerks doing the moving to follow instructions, you mean," he tells me with a dry look.

"I'm not going to argue with that. Let's go. Furniture needs moving," I inform him.

He grunts in irritation as we move towards the elevator.

oOo

The next day I drop Ranma off at Furinkan, revving the engine of the RX-7 and grinning at the way the poor boy's face goes red. I'm not sure if it's because he has to deal with the spectacle of an attractive blond dropping the big manly man off at school, or... well, it's probably that. I laugh at the indignant look he flashes me as I drive away.

I already have my next destination in mind.

When Ranma mentioned that there was another school which practiced Anything Goes in the area, it sparked a memory of something Genma had written in his journal. After we'd finished moving the furniture up to the penthouse I'd taken a few minutes to myself to check the dog-eared book and see why the name 'Tendo' struck a chord in my memory.

The marriage promise was an unwelcome surprise. One I intended to deal with as soon as possible.

I roared to a stop in front of the Tendo dojo, my eyes tracing the gate.

"To face the owner in deadly combat, please use the rear." Well, that sign was as simple as it got. I pulled my purring red car into a parking spot a short distance away, walking back to the dojo and circling around to the entrance indicated.

I gave the bellpull three short jerks and waited.

oOo

I think the last thing I expected was for a motherly young woman, roughly the same age as I look, to answer my challenge. The subdued house dress she was wearing covered a slim frame, yet the girl didn't strike me as a combatant.

"Oh, are you here to fight Father?" The girl asks politely, gesturing for me to enter. I nod, admitting to myself that wearing designer jeans and a button-up shirt I probably don't strike her as the challenging type. She leads me to a dojo in the backyard, just past a lovely koi pond. Sliding the door to the dojo open, she pitches her voice a little higher as she says, "Father, the challenger is here."

"Show him in, Kasumi," a firm tone calls. Frowning at the assumption, I stride into the dojo. My foe is wearing a brown dogi. He's handsome, in a mature sort of way, the firm lines of his face complimented by a severe mustache and long black hair showing not a hint of grey. He cocks his head to the side. "Young lady, are you sure you're up to challenging me?"

"I'm sure, Tendo-san," I tell him, moving to a space two meters away from him. I bow, not taking my eyes off him. "Anything goes for this fight, fair enough?"

"Fair enough. We fight until a knock out or submission. I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, though," he informs me with a kind smile, bowing as well. As soon as he's upright I'm moving with all the speed I can muster, lashing out to rebound sharply off the wall and stopping behind the surprised man.

"You won't be able to be sorry by the time I'm finished with you," I say with a nasty grin. His daughter has a surprised look on her face, her eyes incapable of tracking my movement but clearly seeing my superior position now.

I'll give Tendo this: When I started speaking, he started moving. His left heel grazes my temple as his right leg flexes, carrying him out of my range. My grandstanding taught him to be wary of me. If he'd committed to the kick instead of playing it safe, he probably would have tagged me solidly in the temple.

Not that such a blow would harm me much.

I'm following him before he lands, and his gaze is grim as his feet plant on the ceiling and divert his jump from where he'd originally planned on landing. Still, I'm able to tag his left flank with a roundhouse kick, causing him to stumble as his feet once again touch the ground. He blocks my follow up flurry of blows, falling onto his back and sweeping my feet out from underneath me in an all-or-nothing bid which I can't help but admire.

Against any foe but me or Ranma, it would have shifted the balance in his favour. As it stands, I plant my hands immediately and straighten my torso, torqueing my waist and delivering a bone-rattling kick to his jaw which bounces him off the dojo floor twice before he flips and skids to a stop inches from the shrine on the north wall.

"It seems I underestimated you. I apologize for that," Tendo admits, inclining his head. I grin in reply. His strength isn't great, nor is his speed. His endurance is laughable... I see the slight concussion in his eyes as we stare one another down. Yet his technique is the equal of Ranma's, if not superior. I can see Ranma improving, were he to learn from this man. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I nod. He knows who's going to win this fight. Already his breathing is laboured and his head is woozy. Yet he still intends to fight on. I can't help but respect that. He is, after all, pushing me to nearly the same effort as Ranma... and that young man has had six years to adapt to me.

Tendo-san has had sixty seconds, and he's done admirably. He can't know that in the time he's fended me off, I could have killed a dozen fully armoured English knights... and the knights were less of a bother than he's proving to be.

I move towards the mustached man, grinning as he grimly sets himself for my charge. My opinion of him increases as he tracks my movement as I leap, echoing his tactic of rebounding off the cieling to change my angle of attack. He shifts to the side and brushes my lead kick aside as I sail towards him.

He doesn't take my strength into account. I grab onto his dogi with a feral grin, wrapping my legs around his torso. My weight shifts as I rotate around him, releasing and throwing him towards the ground. Despite all my impressive strength, I'm still a woman who weighs roughly a hundred pounds. Inertia does the rest of the work, transfering my momentum and more into Tendo as he kisses the tatami mats which line the floor of his dojo.

My estimation of him rises once more as he slowly picks himself up off the floor and flashes me a rueful smile.

"That was a Saotome trick," he informs me bluntly, rising and favouring his injured ribs. He tilts his head. "Clearly you're going to win this match. Perhaps after you've defeated me, you'll do me the favour of explaining how you know those moves?"

"We'll talk about it over tea when you wake up," I agree with a smile.

He launches himself at me as I move. The guts it takes to attempt a strike in his condition raises my estimation of him another notch, and the best I can do is hit his cheek as his fist hits mine. My blow bounces him off the wall of his dojo, while his sends me out the open door and skidding across his lawn.

"Oh dear..." The young woman remarks, eyeing her father critically. She turns to me with a slight frown. "Was it really necessary to hit my father so hard?"

"Submission or knock out," I answer with a small smile, walking towards the dojo and rubbing my jaw. I'm surprised to find I actually felt it. We both enter the dojo to find Tendo slumped against the wall, wearing a smile. I turn to the young woman and offer my hand. "I'm Alisa. Alisa Perne."

"I'm Tendo Kasumi," the young woman replies, taking my hand. "It's nice to meet you, um..."

"Oh, my given name is Alisa," I say after a moment, realizing her confusion. I find myself blushing, of all things, under the understanding smile the woman levels towards me: She could have given Ghandi lessons on peace-keeping. "I sometimes mix up the order of names in Japan."

She proves to be an avid conversationalist as we tuck her father in his bed and go for tea. A small part of me admits that if the other Tendo daughters are this nice, perhaps my reservations about the marriage agreement are pure selfishness.

I quash it, just like I intend to quash the agreement. Nice as these girls may be, they're not me. He's mine.

oOo

Author's Notes:

Whoa. I wrote this chapter in an hour and a half. *blink-blink* I wish I could produce like this all the time. I bet all of you wish the same, don't ya?

Part of my problem right now is that I'm writing in first person present-tense for one story, first person past-tense for a second, third person limited for a third story, and third person unlimited for a fourth. This gets confusing to switch between very, very fast. I spend a lot of time going back and saying "no, no, that's the wrong verb-tense!" right now. Which is awesome, because you KNOW I love arguing with myself over proper usage of verb-tenses. And verbs. And yarerkgtkhgbdbfll.

The more I work on the outline for this, the more it appears that the Ranma-centric chapters are going to be the rarer of the two. I'm doing this for two reasons... For one, I feel that Alisa is really central to the plot here and I feel like most of the action is going to center on her.

For two, I got my fill of writing Ranma's perspective while doing Loss, Hope & Redemption (shameless plug!).


	7. Chapter 7: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 7: Alisa

oOo

I page through Genma's journal while I wait for Soun Tendo to awaken.

Based on my foe's familiarity with Genma's style and the incidental mentions Genma makes throughout his journal, I surmise that Soun was Genma's training partner when Genma was training with his old master... A man of incalculable evil the like of which Ranma's father refuses to expand upon in his notes.

No wonder I detected a lie when the man told me nothing evil had anything to do with his skill. It was simply the man's misfortune that the evil I meant was not the one he was thinking of.

I focus my attention on the mustached man in front of me as he stirs. I sit in a comfortable chair roughly a meter away from where he lays on his futon, the tea his daughter, Kasumi, prepared still steaming the air between us.

With my superior senses, I've known the moment he was about to awaken long before any mortal would. Ten minutes before, I set the brunette to brewing tea for us. It's still fresh when he reaches for the warm cup by his bedside.

As he takes a refreshing sip of his drink, his slowly opening eyes focus on me sitting at his bedside. He nods once, forcing himself upright as he kicks his feet forward, out, and to his left, sitting roughly at the edge of his bed.

"We have some things to talk about, I think," the man says gravely, though still managing to spare me a smile. Perhaps he's not the best fighter, I'll admit, but the Tendo head could give some diplomats I've met lessons in cordiality. He sips his tea before continuing. "Your style used some rudimentary forms of the Saotome school, child... Would you care to start our discussion with that?"

"I... I didn't really know Genma," I finally say. I find myself willing to tell the truth, more or less. "Six years ago, he entrusted his son Ranma into my care. I was scarcely more than a girl myself when he did, yet I was a superior fighter."

"I noted that your physical abilities are quite advanced," Soun admits with a shy grin, prompting me to return it with a small smile.

"I'm quite strong and quite fast. Technique was never the reason I was teaching Ranma," I reply with a shrug, tucking a strand of blond hair behind my ear. I decide to be as honest with this man as I've been with Ranma as I continue. "I can stop a mid-sized car dead in it's tracks without being hurt, and as you've noticed, I can move faster than the average eye can track. These are skills I've passed on to Genma's heir."

"Yet?" Soun prompts, and I flash him a sad smile.

"Genma died before he could reclaim Ranma," I finally admit, my eyes turning from his. I force sincerity back into my gaze as I return it to my host's, my voice pleading, "I wasn't aware Ranma had any family at all, let alone family friends who could take him in. I was young, so young..."

"...and you were left with a young man who lacked direction and family," Soun finishes. He flashes me a wan smile. "You're in love with Genma's boy, aren't you?"

I hesitate to answer. I know the answer, intellectually, yet I can't respond to the man.

"No, don't bother denying it," Soun says, flashing me a grin. He reaches forward to pat me on the shoulder. I find myself strangely comforted by the gesture. His gaze finds the window of his room. "You must only be a few years older than the boy. You're more like a protective older sister than anything else, aren't you?"

"That's more or less right," I admit.

"I suppose the schools will never be joined, then," the Tendo head admits, and though I'm not looking at him I hear the shudder he tries to repress. When he turns back to face me, he's all smiles. "Don't treat me like an idiot, girl... You've been there for boy for years. More years than Genma had with him. He probably doesn't see it like you or I do, but... He's yours, isn't he?"

"I'd like him to be," I finally say. It hurts worse than a Welshman's crossbow bolt to admit the fact he's not mine yet. Soun finally flashes me a small smile.

"Genma once promised that our heirs would marry," Soun tells me, sips his tea, meeting my eyes. His voice turns serious. "I imagine if I tried to force the issue, you'd fight it, wouldn't you?"

"That's very likely," I tell the man, meeting his chocolate gaze. After an intense moment, he turns his eyes away from my stare.

"You're the only family the boy has," Soun finally admits, brushing his silky hair back from his face. "There's only one way to unite the schools, then."

"Oh?" I ask, interested. The man's been far too accomidating thus far.

"I'll have to insist that Ranma learn the Tendo school from myself and my daughter," Tendo tells me firmly, finally grinning after a moment. He pats my shoulder again and I flash a smile in response to the grin he shows me. "After all, your children will teach my grandchildren, right?"

"It sounds fair to me," I admit, tapping my cup of tea to his.

Like that would ever happen.

I haven't been able to have a child for over five thousand years.

oOo

I pick Ranma up after school with a broad grin, anticipating his upcoming lesson. The dour grin he flashes me in return tells me all I need to know about his day.

"Tell me we're heading back to the penthouse to pound the crap outta each other, youba-chan," Ranma tells me direly as he shoves his bookbag into the afterthought Mazda had the gall to call a backseat. We'd been driving for a moment when he gave me a suspicious glance. "This ain't the way home."

"You're right!" I say with a gasp, my hand to my lips as I stare around in wide-eyed wonder. He doesn't buy it for a second, crossing his arms and glaring at me. I finally chuckle and admit my guilt. "I went to the Tendo dojo and talked to the clan head. He wants to teach you."

"Wait, seriously?" Ranma asks, and at the look in his eyes I realize how acutely he's missed the technical side of his training. I've got no doubts he's improved on the style he knew when I met him but at the most basic, he's been a talented amateur building on the foundation of his professional training for six years. "You've got someone who can train me?"

"Yeah, I do," I tell the excited boy, grinning.

I'm not prepared for the hug he wraps around me. Though I don't really need to breath more than once an hour, I'm left breathless by the embrace.

We're halfway to the Tendo dojo when I notice the car following mine. Really, I don't know how they could have been more obvious about it: a black sedan with tinted windows following three car lengths back? In this day and age of GPS tracking and computers, they didn't need to see me to trace me. It was sloppy work.

Ranma notices my attention to the rear view mirror. In the past, I've mentioned that my wealth has made me a target. The look on his face when he notices the car is both worrysome and wonderful, but misplaced. We both know that in a fight, I'm the one who'll wind up protecting him.

"Ranma, I'm going to stop the car in a moment. When you get out, stay in public places until I call you," I tell the young man. He nods once, undoing the top button of his shirt and tightening his belt a notch, ready to move quickly and without hindering himself. I hand him my cell phone. "If you don't hear from me in two hours, hit the speed dial for number five. The person on the other end will be able to help."

"Please, youba-chan," Ranma snorts, sliding the device into his pocket. "Like whatever goons are following you are going to be any sort of threat. Besides..."

As I pull to a stop, he flashes me a dangerous grin.

"...They'll be just as interested in me," Ranma tells me. What is the boy talking- Where did he get that knife? He takes one step away from my car and hurls the weapon, shattering the windshield of the car and embedding itself up to the hilt between two burly men in the backseat. At the same time, a second knife flutters from his hands and deflects of the pavement before ripping the tire apart in a loud pop.

Behind the black sedan, another just like it emerges from traffic and rolls to a gentle stop right beside it.

"Looks like I get to lead these goons on a little chase for a bit, youba-chan," Ranma says with a grin, leaping with cat-like grace to the top of a convenience store. The stunned looks on the vehicle's occupants only grow at the display of raw power. The boy waves me off. "Go on, Alisa! Get out of here! You play with the guys in car number two, I'll play with these jokers!"

I nod once, the passenger door slamming shut as momentum and wind resistance pull it tight to the car. In my rear view mirror I see my pigtailed dependent waiting patiently for the stunned men to pile out of their damaged vehicle before leaping away. Their companions in the other car roar after me.

Good.

It doesn't take long for me to grow bored with trying to lose them. Tokyo's traffic is too dense for me to gain much of a lead on the men in pursuit of me and the police presence makes speeding problematic anyway. I call up my GPS, using the spare cell phone in my car to call ahead to a local warehouse I've rented.

The manager picks up on the second ring.

"Tanaka-san, I trust everything is well?" I ask politely, weaving around a low slung Nissan and gunning it onto the highway. The car behind me picks up it's speed to follow, and I maintain just enough of a lead to convince them I'm actually trying to escape.

"Perne-san! It's good to hear from you! Your shipment arrived today and is already finished being unloaded!" The man tells me happily. I glance at the clock on my dashboard. He and his subordinates still have an hour left in their shifts.

"Tanaka-san, you and everyone else can go home early. In fact, I'd be most displeased if anyone is still in my warehouse fifteen minutes from now," I tell him with the mixed good cheer and tone of command all good employers use.

"Of course, Perne-san! Does this include the security guards as well?" He wonders, nervous.

"It does, Tanaka-san. I and several of my colleagues are going to be arriving in roughly twenty minutes. Please just engage the security alarm and ensure that nobody is there when I arrive," I order. I drop behind a yellow Subaru, finally weaving around it and gaining the offramp which leads to another highway.

Tanaka bids me farewell and hangs up. I smile. Perfect. Behind me, the men hunting me make the turn off as well, but only just. I slow down enough that they don't lose sight of me as I take the long way around.

oOo

A short time later all of the security cameras are disabled and I stand calmly in the loading dock of my warehouse, the shipping doors open. The black car pulls to a stop twenty feet away and four men pile out of the vehicle. They are all well-dressed, carrying pistols in holsters at their belt, serious expressions adorning their faces.

"Gentlemen, you've irritated me. That's a very bad idea," I tell them grimly. They don't know it, but walking away is probably their last chance of living through the night. If they pursue me into this warehouse, the shadows and cover will give me a solid advantage, even against their guns.

"Ms. Perne, we'd like you to come with us, please," the man who'd been driving tells me. I give him extra suck-up points for saying it in near-perfect English and using 'Ms', I admit.

"I don't think so. I think you're all going to tell me why you've been following me and why you felt the need to be armed to do so." The men shift nervously at the statement. I tap my jaw with one finger, eyeing them. "Well?"

"I'm afraid we can't tell you that, Ms. Perne, and I'm afraid you have no choice. You will be coming with us," the apparent leader informs me sternly, hand firmly on the grip of his gun.

"You're right about one thing," I snarl, dropping low and preparing to fade back into the building. "You and 'afraid' are going to be very close companions in the near future."

The fools actually follow me into the warehouse. I kill the other three men and extract a name and address from the fourth before finishing him off, as well. The painted concrete of the floor, protected by a nice glossy coat, only takes minutes to hose down and properly clean. The trash compactor behind the building makes short work of the bodies.

When I call my cellphone from the office, my worry only grows as the phone rings. Finally it picks up.

"Ranma?" I ask, relieved.

"No."

"You bastard, if you've-" I begin, only to be cut off.

"Shut up," the man on the other end snarls. He pauses before continuing. "You'll listen to me or you'll never find your little boyfriend again."

I listen, and wonder if I can figure out a way to rip this man's heart out of his body without killing him as I memorize his instructions.

oOo

Author's Notes:

Not much to say. I've got a couple rants in my profile which are, I think, pretty interesting. Mainly a quick glance at physics as applied to fanfiction and general notes on story development. Next chapter will be a Ranma-centric one. Side note: This is the story I've been the most consistent with, length-wise. Pretty much every single chapter is 2,600 and 2,700 words.

For those wondering, yes, I'm tackling the first Yaksha arc. There'll be some twists, I promise.

-Gaming Ikari


	8. Chapter 8: Ranma

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 8: Ranma

oOo

I flinch as I hear the tranquilizer dart whiz through the air in front of me, the muted thud of compressed air used to propel it giving away one of my opponents. It sparks as the metal dart strikes the fire escape I'm resting on, ruining my ability to see in the dark for a second or two.

The chase is not going well for me. The two men following me are doing an admirable job of keeping up with me as I bound from rooftop to rooftop, but the problem is the snipers. Two of the men are sporting hunting rifles modified to fire tranquilizing darts, and they've got enough ammo to waste keeping me penned in one area.

The problem is that they're slowly chasing me towards the ocean, which is going to eventually force a confrontation. The problem is that I don't exactly want to kill them, and between their handguns and those darts I'm not sure I could slip by them without doing just that. I'd have considered it as a last ditch effort, but even if I could force myself to do so, I don't want to see the look of disappointment that'd be on youba-chan's face if she found out I'd killed someone.

I groan to myself as I hear footsteps below, moving from my perch to allow them to herd me towards the water. I needed a plan to deal with these losers. I launched myself on top of another rooftop, the men losing sight of me. One sniper with a bead on me must have been about to lose me, because he fires a poorly-aimed shot which skids off the edge of the roof and spins to a stop in front of me.

I pick it up and move on, still trying to escape the covering fire of the snipers and failing miserably. While I leap from roof to roof, I rub the metal of the dart, spitting on my shirt and wiping most of the discoloured stain from the thing.

I stare at it worriedly as I pause for a moment. I have no idea how these tranquilizers work. Maybe the stain got rid of the stuff that'd knock me out, and maybe it hadn't. I keep the dart handy but don't yet plunge it into myself, knowing that doing so would be a last ditch option.

Unfortunately, the water comes up far too quickly. I land running through the courtyard of tall, windowless buildings all around. Their car rolls up and a barrel sticks out of the backseat window facing me. I'm a bit put out that my last ditch option has become very attractive so quickly. I start zigzagging as I run, and as I hear a dart whiz by my neck I take my opportunity.

I throw myself into a graceless roll, using the motion to hide the dart as I plunge it into the back of my left shoulder. Though I've wiped off most of the sedative, a distinct feeling of calm almost immediately takes hold of me and I allow myself to go limp, keeping my eyes just barely shut.

After a minute or so of not moving, I feel one of the man nudge my side with his shoe.

"Good shot, Hiroko," a voice says jovially, and a hand slips under my shoulder to flip me onto my back. Firm hands press their fingertips to my carotid artery, checking my pulse. Thankful for the bit of tranquilizer in my system quickly evening out my heartbeat, I lay perfectly still save for my deep, even breathing.

"He's out," the man finally confirms. I'm hoisted into the air and slung across someone's shoulders like a sack of laundry. I dare not risk opening my eyes even a bit, relying on my good sense of hearing to give me an impression of what's happening. The click of a lock opening nearly causes me to groan, and as my head bounces off of the bottom of the car's trunk requires me to fight back a wince of pain.

My legs are roughly shoved in with me and the latch is shut with a near-deafening slam.

"Jerks," I whisper, rubbing the back of my head.

I gently feel the door above me, and curse as I realize this old piece of crap car is made of metal. Had it been mostly plastic, I could have risked a few strong kicks and leaping out while on the highway. While it wouldn't have been the safest thing in the world for me to do, I could have disappeared long before they had a chance to stop and pursue me.

I settle into a more comfortable position, firmly keeping my brain occupied to fight off sleep. I know that if I allow the combination of my long day and the trace amounts of tranquilizer to let me fall asleep, I'll be defenseless. I know how deeply I sleep since youba-chan's made such a point of it in the past.

I find myself wondering, again and again, just who's after her. She's just a martial arts teacher. A good one, but nothing more interesting than a couple dozen like her that I've met.

Isn't she?

I realize that I actually know very little about Alisa or her past. I knew she'd come to Japan to study, but I don't remember if she was here as a High School student or a College student. She's never mentioned it.

It suddenly occurs to me that she's never mentioned a lot of things.

oOo

I barely have time to sprawl my limbs randomly and shut my eyes as the car comes to a stop, the trunk popping open a moment later. Two sets of hands grab me under the arm pints, dragging my feet across the ground. The texture under my toes changes once to marble, then to carpet as we get on to an elevator.

With a ding, we get off the machine and my toes feel a deep, rich carpet through my shoes.

"So this is the kid?" A voice asks as rough hands grab my hair and yank my head up. He snorts. "Pathetic. You're telling me four of you had trouble taking this little bastard?"

"He's some kind of martial artist, sir," the man on my left explains. "He was jumping, like a dozen feet into the air and dodging shots from our tranquilizer guns. He's not an ordinary boy."

"It shame I no get to fight him, then," A sultry woman's voice chuckles from far to my left, heavily accented.

"Alisa will probably give you all the trouble you want, Shenhua," the man snaps. "For now-"

He's cut off by the cell phone in my pocket ringing. He finds the thing on the third ring and snaps it open on the fourth.

"Ranma?" Youba-chan's voice asks, far away and relieved.

"No," the leader of the operation replies darkly.

"You bastard, if you've-"

"Shut up," he snarls, cutting Alisa off. His hands clench over my hair and he tilts my face up again. I smell his minty breath and feel it brushing my face as he talks. "You'll listen to me or you'll never find your little boyfriend again."

Alisa doesn't reply, but I can imagine just how angry she must be.

"You'll come to my building, unarmed and alone. You'll park your car in front of the lobby, and you'll enter the elevator and come to the seventeenth floor. Any sign of foul play and I slit your boyfriend's throat. 755 Nakatomi drive. Be here in fifteen minutes."

I hear the phone snap shut.

"You assholes standing around doing nothing, go down and secure the plaza," with a hustle of many footsteps, the door to his office opens and shuts. His voice rings impatiently. "You two dipshits holding the boy, too. Give him to Shenhua."

Silky smooth hands take me from the guards, and tassles hanging from her earring threaten to draw a snicker from me as she slips one arm over her shoulders, the other slipping around to grab me by my belt.

"I not hold this kid for half an hour, even if he cute," the woman supporting me tells the boss, drawing a chuckle from him.

"Kill him. We don't need him any longer, now that Alisa is coming to us," he replies. As soon as the hand leaves my belt, my free hand reaches over to grab the jacket she's wearing as I spin and throw her across the room, her arms slipping free of the cloth and escaping the worst of the toss. As my eyes finally open, I see her tumbling across the room in a controlled roll instead of slamming into the far wall.

"That'd be my cue, I think," I tell the the boss, a man in a gaudy light blue suit. He stares at me blankly, then reaches for a gun in a shoulder holster. I boot a nearby ottoman into his face, flipping him up and face down onto his desk, unconscious, his gun clattering somewhere behind the desk. I hear the whistle of steel through air and catch a machete-sized kukri as it flies at my side, so I turn to my opponent and switch to Mandarin. "So are you just new to the country or are you just a moron?"

"Thank god someone around here actually speaks a civilized language," she says with a genuine smile. She's probably in her mid-twenties, and dressed in a lovely red Chinese-style dress with roses embroidered at the breast. Throwing darts strapped to each thigh compliment the other kukri in her hand, which is when I notice the thick cord in her free hand.

With a vicious yank, she retrieves her weapon from me.

"It's a shame I've got to kill you," she adds, shifting her stance low and taking me in. Her voice is a lot less harsh in a language she's more comfortable with, I notice. "I think you'd fit in back in my hometown. Oh well."

"It's a shame I'm going to have to beat you unconscious," I tell her with a cocky grin, tossing the white jacket in my hands to the ground and prompting a scowl. "I think if the place produces fighters as good as you seem to be, I might actually enjoy myself there."

We begin to circle one another, keeping a careful distance from one another. As I step in front of the ottoman I'd used to knock out the idiot with the gun, I lash my foot out once more. I know the trick won't work, but it'll be a good distraction.

Three throwing darts flash through the air towards me, and I duck under them and bat aside one kukri as she swings it in a dangerous arc towards me. I snatch the cord as it passes under me, giving it a sharp tug which pulls her momentarily off balance.

She slashes with her free blade, prompting me to spin and bend my back, allowing the blade to whistle right past the tip of my nose. I flash her a grin which she returns, planting my hand and launching myself back a step. In that time, she manages to snag another throwing dart from her thigh and the near miss draws a bloody line across my jaw. I growl and try a thrust punch she barely avoids with a twist of her own.

Then I'm too close for ranged attacks. I have to be careful of the sharp blade she swings with lightning speed my way, twisting and turning in close range. She doesn't notice that I've still got the leather cord in my hands until I've trapped her free arm.

From there, it's a simple matter of spinning around her back, my free hand grabbing a throwing dart and settling it right against her neck as I pull her back on to the ground with me, her back tight to my chest. The flash of metal at the last second is the only thing awry with the plan, as she somehow slips her free kukri to my throat in the fall.

"Well, this is awkward," she admits as we lay on the floor of the office, holding a blade to one another's throats. She sighs. "Well, we could kill each other I guess... but frankly this job's not worth enough money to see how much faster I am than you."

"I'm not too eager to find out how much _slower_ you are than me," I admit, feeling her chuckle deep in my chest. I wait a moment and she turns her head to me questioningly, especially as I keep the point of the dart pressed firmly against her carotid. Her eyes go towards the blade at her neck and then back to mine.

"Look, I'm not stupid. I've got no reason to want to kill you, but you lose your paycheck if you _don't _kill me. I'm not letting go of my blade first," I tell her firmly.

"Well aren't you the smart boy," she purrs with a chuckle, letting go of the kukri after a tense moment. I take the throwing dart from her neck and she sits up, but doesn't get off of me. She places a hand on my chest and she leans over to look me in the eyes. "I think you were right before, kid. I think you'd fit right in where I'm from. Look me up if you ever make it to Roanapur."

"Will do," I say with a single nod as she gets off of me. I accept her hand and she smoothly pulls me up.

"Well, time to see if I get paid after all," Shenhua mutters as I'm moving towards the elevator doors, I hear a thud as the boss is flipped over, then a moment later, "Lucky! He had a gold card in his wallet! Time for some shopping and a plane ticket home!"

I laugh as the elevator doors open and I get in.

oOo

Author's Notes:

For those of you who snorted in barely-contained laughter at the "Alisa'd hate me if I killed someone" line, yes, it was intentional.

Ranma, a damsel in distress? Nah. Oh, they'll both be getting some serious opponents, but these guys were a joke except for Ranma's foe. In the first novel, the only reason Alisa had even a small amount of trouble with the human hunters was because Yaksha was Batman-level Crazy Prepared for Alisa.

Also, yes, the woman Ranma fights was Shenhua (aka Chinglish) from Black Lagoon. No, she's not showing up as a major character. I just needed a throw-away villain for one cool fight and was watching a couple episodes today. I've got a crossover to that series on the backburner for later and decided to sate my appetite for it this way.

-Gaming Ikari

Update: Six hours later, and there's a 15,000 word crossover with Black Lagoon on my account called Forcibly United. It's pretty much A Duet of Fists, but instead of going to Yuki-onna's realm and the story taking a nosedive, Ranma and Ryouga go to Roanapur and Ranma picks a fight with Revy within like, a minute of meeting her. I'd say about half of those 15,000 words are completely new, so it's not a waste of time to check out.


	9. Chapter 9: Ranma

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 9: Ranma

oOo

The elevator dings, and I look out across the lobby.

Staring back at me are a dozen men armed with a variety of handguns and rifles. I realize that, lacking no weapons whatsoever, I'm quite underarmed for this fight. A random part of me snickers at the fact I'm about to attempt what Neo did in that movie I watched with youba-chan last week, but in reverse. Of course, unlike The One, I was completely unarmed.

I quash my sense of humour and move before the men have time to react, sliding into the cover of a fancy security desk separating me from all those guards and their guns.

"Would you guys consider just letting me go? I already took out your boss and that cute chick he had guarding me! There's really no reason not to let me just walk outta here!" I try, wincing at the spray of gunfire which showers me with a flurry of wood chips.

"Give up! We don't want to shoot you!" A firm voice calls.

"Look, I can't do that! Your boss wants to kill me!" I reply. I shift a bit. "C'mon, I'm trying to be reasonable! I just want to get out of here. I don't even _want _to kick your asses!"

"You heard him, boys!" The same voice calls with a distinct sneer. I hear a lot of clicks which I recognize from there rare times I'd gone with youba-chan to her gun club as the safety switching off. "The boss doesn't even need him alive! Take him out!"

"God damn it!" I yell, smashing the marble floor underneath my fist. I gather several of the large fragments, feeling the heft of them in my hand with an evil grin. "Last chance, guys! Let me walk out and I promise not to hurt you!"

"You hurt us? That's ri-ghack!" He's cut off and falls limply to the ground as the stone I'd winged blindly finds him, probably catching him right in the jaw. I'd been aiming for his voice, after all.

"Seriously! Walk out the door and I'm not gonna hurt you!" I yell one last time. I don't hear anyone leave the lobby, but at least they're smart enough not to respond this time. Damn it.

I gather some of the smaller fragments of stone, and quickly raise my head to glance around the lobby, memorizing certain features. Three handgun shots crack across the desk where my head had been, sending more splinters down the back of my shirt. With accuracy born from hours of practice, I bolt from cover and fire the rocks in rapid succession. I've thrown six before my plan becomes apparent to the guys, the first light popping as it shatters from the rock.

Within moments, the only source of light is the tragically dim light from the almost-set sun outside of the building. Beyond maybe twenty or thirty feet from the narrow windows, it's nearly pitch black. The funny part is, it doesn't really hinder me. Training with youba-chan happened when she said it, wherever she said it. A lot of times this had been in total darkness, or near enough.

I wasn't exactly Daredevil, but I could certainly handle fighting in the darkness with quite a bit of ease. The same could not be said for the remaining eleven jerks standing between me and the doorway. The worst part is I knew I'd have to get them all before I could leave.

The darkness that provided my cover from their guns only applied as long as I didn't silhouette myself against the light coming from the front of the lobby. If I were stupid enough to try and leave with men still armed, even they could shoot me pretty easily. I wasn't exactly eager for that particular experience.

Someone took a footstep and I grinned. The nice thing about being the only one in the darkness was that I could attack anyone I heard moving. They had to worry about who it was making noise in the dark. No doubt this would give me quite the psychological edge, too.

One I intended to use. I immediately moved to the man who'd noisily shifted grabbing him and hurling him into the wall. His buddy made the mistake of shouting his name as my first opponent screamed, allowing me to pinpoint his position. I hurled him towards the front door, grinning at the way he tumbled into the light. He was breathing, but clearly unconscious.

"Ishida! Tatsumaki! Are you two alright?" Victim number three called warily. I stride over to him, getting right behind him with absolute silence. "Ishida!"

"He's out of it right now," I chuckle, and the man screams like a girl. Two quick hits to his stomach stun him, and a blow to the temple knocks him out. Victim number four makes himself known as he panics, firing his gun at me and the poor bastard knocked out at my feet. I kick him to get him away from the gunman's arc and dive behind cover, waiting for him to stop so I can go deal with him.

I'm probably as shocked as the man I plow into, my head crashing into his as I roll into cover. Thankfully I recover first, slapping the gun from his hands and kneeing him in the face. A grunt from beside me indicates his partner, who I kick through the front window.

It's getting a little crowded here. I leap to the top of the decorative stone dominating the center of the lobby, using it to catch my breath and look for more prey.

"He's taken out five of us in the dark, Genji! Let's just get the hell out of here!" One man whimpers, presumably to a man hiding near to him. I leap across the space between us, transferring my momentum to him and slamming him into the wall. He groans, but doesn't get up. I hear the click of a gun and duck, the bullet sparking off the wall to my right as the flash of the gun briefly illuminates the terrified face of my newest foe.

It's the work of seconds to disarm him and slam his head into the column he'd been using for cover, joining his friends. I leap into the safety of the security desk, knowing it gives me protection from pretty much every angle these jokers can attack from.

"Look guys, it's pretty clear how this thing is going to go," I call out cheerfully, pausing for a moment to listen for any men moving. Nobody is. "There are only four of you left, and clearly this whole fighting in the dark thing isn't working out too great for you. Why don't you guys just call it a day?"

"We'll kill you, you bastard!" A voice snarls from far to my left. Number nine, then.

He goes down, flipped into the ground with a breath-taking slam before I knock him out with a light kick to the side of the face. I'm away and back on my perch on the decorative stone before his gun finishes clattering across the lobby.

"Screw it, I'm out of here!" One man sobs, and he puts words to action, running straight for the door and bolting into the night. That leaves only two of them. For long minutes, nobody moves... Then I hear the creak of leather and a quiet curse.

Number eleven goes down just like all the others.

"Old man, you're the only one left," I point out, shifting as I speak so as not to give him a target to shoot towards. For a tense minute he doesn't answer, then...

"Sorry kid, I've got a job to do," he finally admits. Silently thanking him for giving his position away, I get next to his position, then pause as something occurs to me. This guy is far too devious to fall for the same trick his buddies have been falling for. There's no way he'd want me to come for him, unless-

I leap for cover as he fires, the bullet shattering the glass at the front of the lobby. Like an idiot, I hadn't thought him smart enough to move into the darkness, providing himself with a greater chance to catch my shadow against the light outside. Smart guy.

"Nice try," I admit, a little shakily. I take a deep, steadying breath before I continue. "You very nearly got me there, old-timer."

He doesn't respond, as I know he won't. Instead of waiting or foolishly fumbling around in the dark, I leap straight up and grasp the column. I'm now exactly where I was, except eight feet higher. No doubt he thinks me panicky at the near-miss. Admittedly part of me is, but not enough to override my sense of tactics.

It's not long before I hear him moving very quietly towards my pillar. He snaps around and fires three shots through the air below me, surprised face showing in the muzzlefire of the gun as he realizes that I'm not there. It was a very good try, but now it's too late. I know where he is, and it only takes one sharp blow as I drop to send him into dreamland.

I slap the dust from my hands, glancing around the lobby with a grin.

oOo

Far down the street, I see Alisa's Mazda breaking all sorts of traffic laws as it barrels through red lights and breaks speed limits, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. She's skidded to a stop and hopped out of the car before she notices me sitting on the front steps with a broad grin.

"Yo, youba-chan," I say smugly, walking towards the car and hopping into the passenger seat. I wave my hand a bit, pulling her out of her stunned state. "We should probably get out of here. Some of the guys were firing off guns in the lobby, and I'm pretty sure that the police are going to get here soon."

"You don't want to stay and give the nice officers a statement, Ranma?" Alisa asks sweetly, flashing me a grin as she gets into the car.

"The nice officers will probably toss me in jail for what I did to those poor bastards," I tell her with a sour grunt. She casts me a curious glance and I wave frantically. "No, I didn't kill anyone! I'd never go that far, youba-chan! I just knocked 'em around a bit, put one guy through the window. I probably broke a bone or two, and I bet these guys are connected to the police if they've got that many guns, so..."

"...so you'd rather get out of here rather than trusting in your government and their lack of corruption," Alisa finishes for me, and I roll my eyes as she starts the car once more. A block and a half away, we pass a trio of cop cars with flashing lights. She flashes me a dirty look. "Gee, I wonder where they're headed, Rambo."

"Hey, this isn't my fault!" I retort, scowling at the smug look on her face. I cross my arms. "Look, you gotta tell me why those guys were after you, Alisa. They had guns and they were gonna kill me just because I might get in the way when you got there. Is there more to you than just being a martial arts instructor?"

"You're right, Ranma," she admits, turning to face me with... apprehension, maybe? I'd never seen the look in her eyes before. "Can it wait until we get back to the apartment? I'd like to get my thoughts in order, but you're right. I've been hiding something from you, Ranma. Something important.

"I think it's time I told you what that thing is."

I nod in reply, watching the city as it drifts past.

oOo

Author's Notes:

So, for the last twelve hours I've been a damned writing machine: 5,000 words for two chapters of Echoes, 7,000 new words for Forcibly United on top of editing 8,000 words for use in that story, plus beta-reading and editing most of an 8,500 word chapter for someone else, which is going to be finished within the hour.

I am frankly astonished at this. Expect me to take a break for the weekend at least, guys.

-Gaming Ikari


	10. Chapter 10: Alisa

Echoes of the Past

oOo

Chapter 10: Alisa

oOo

My new penthouse is a place of tension. On the leather couch, Ranma sits comfortably and watches me as I pace back and forth across the living room. I'm trying to figure out how to break the fact I'm a vampire to the boy lightly. After another minute of silence, Ranma shifts uncomfortably and it occurs to me that there's no real way to break him into that fact gently.

I decide to go with the lesser reason these guys could be after me first.

"Ranma, do you know how wealthy I am?" I suddenly ask, turning mid-stride to look him in the eyes. He just shrugs in response.

"I've got the impression you have some money," he finally admits, crossing his arms. He looks around the condo significantly, pausing on the sixty-four inch plasma television. "Things like the TV, your cars, and this penthouse were all a pretty big indicator. That and my pops never mentioned paying you for your training during all the letters means you're probably pretty well off. I guess it never really occurred to me to think about your money beyond that, youba-chan."

One of the reasons I think I actually love him: He knows I have money and it doesn't seem to bother him, but he's never really asked me for anything or exploited my wealth. Oh, of course he's benefited from it. The trips to China and Europe, the nice clothes, the premium-quality ingredients I stock our kitchen with, they've all been gifts to him which he's thanked me for... Yet I've always had the impression he took those things as a given aspect of being with me, that he'd have been just as happy with my company had we been wandering like vagabonds across the world.

"I have a lot of money," I finally say, breaking the oppressive silence once more. Before he can start to speak, I interrupt him. "Not a lot of money as in, I could probably buy myself a nice car if I felt like it. I mean I have a lot of money as in I could buy myself a nice country if I felt like it."

"A country?" Ranma croaks, and I grin at that.

"Not a large one, or a first-world country, but some of the smaller ones? My wealth more than matches their GDP. I'm probably the wealthiest woman in the world, Ranma," I inform him.

"Huh," he says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. I let him process the surprising information, waiting. He looks back at me. "Huh. Uh, so that's why these guys were trying to kidnap you? Some sort of ransom thing, then?"

I want to tell him that that's exactly what this was. That these men more than likely wanted to kidnap me to extract a ransom of a few million dollars and then just let me go on my way. It would have allowed me to keep from possibly spoiling my relationship with this young man for a few more years. It would have been borrowed time, but it would have ensured he'd be mine for that time.

Instead, I must risk everything on his feelings for me. Risk that he loves his youba-chan enough to overcome the feelings of doubt and revulsion which will no doubt swallow him. Sometimes I hate my nature. Sure, it's a nice deal, overall. Yet there are times, like now or when Tendo was joking about my children with this young man, that I know my position is not universally a good one.

"No, that's not it. If they'd just wanted money they could have tried to collect a ransom for you instead of lying in wait for me," I finally admit, and he slowly nods. I smile sadly at that, at his ability to think critically. It's one of the more useful things I've taught him since he began living with me. "Ranma, I'm sure you realize I'm older than I look. You've certainly made enough jokes about my age. So tell me... How old do you think I am?"

"Ain't you always telling me it's not polite to ask about a woman's age?" Ranma jokes, his chuckling fading only slightly at the dirty look I shoot him. He shrugs, kicking his feet onto the coffee table and leaning back deeper into the couch, hands folded behind his head. "I dunno. You can't be any younger than twenty or so. I'm guessing that that's not the case, since you're talking about older. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight, maybe?"

"Older." I inform him, getting a raised eyebrow in return.

"Thirty?" If it keeps going up at this rate, it's going to take forever.

"Ranma, what if I told you I'm not human?" I asked, seeing the surprised look on his face. He chuckles weakly at the serious look on my face.

"Stop kidding around, youba-chan. It's not working," he tells me. Yet his heart rate has suddenly increased. I can smell the slight perspiration on his brow, just beginning to squeeze out of the pores of his skin. I can feel his fear, and more importantly... I know he's lying when he implies he's dismissed the idea entirely.

"Ranma, you're smarter than that," I tell him, sitting down in the chair across from him. "You know I'm not human. I can tell."

"Some things haven't always added up," he admits warily, a frown on his face. "No offense, youba-chan, but your physical abilities don't match your training or even your body. You hardly ever work out except when you train me and your body doesn't show the sort of muscle mass mine do. In fact, the only reason I know how strong you are is because I've fought you before. Just based on your looks, I'd say you weren't any different from a hundred girls I've met at my school."

"You're correct, Ranma," I tell him, standing and walking to the bookshelf. I pull a more recent printing of one of my favourite books, stashing it behind my back as I stand across from him. I tap his foot with mine. "I'm far stronger than I should be, and I'm older than I look. What else have you put together in that head of yours?"

"Your treatments," he says slowly, frowning and rubbing his chin with one hand as he puts his feet on the floor, leaning forward. His eyes meet mine. "Every few days, whenever we're in the city, you have to go out and get your medical treatments. But for some reason you always go in the evening."

"You're getting close," I tell him with a smile. I wonder if he notices my fangs? I lean forward a bit. "Speaking of evenings, what have you noticed about me regarding them? I know you have, Ranma. A lot of little things about me have been bothering you recently, haven't they?"

"They have," he murmurs. He glances around. "I've noticed something about that, too. You're always stronger at night. It's not black and white or anything, but you've always been able to move faster and hit harder at night."

"And?" I prompt.

"...and sometimes you sleep through the day. You're a real night owl," he says. Something clicks in his mind.

"So I'm stronger than most people, especially at night. I'm older than I look. I disappear every few evenings, or I start to get weak," I tell him. He nods slowly. I've built the suspense up long enough, broken it to him as gently as I can. I toss a copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula into his lap. "He doesn't get many things right, but it was fun to read when it first came out."

I leave him to stare at the book and walk out onto the roof, closing the glass door behind me.

oOo

I've been staring at the rising moon for thirty-three minutes and fifty-five seconds when Ranma opens the door from the living room to the roof of the condo. I know, because I've been counting the muted click of the seconds hand of the kitchen clock ever since I left Ranma to his thoughts.

He comes to a stop right behind me, and I'm both surprised and relieved to feel his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a gentle squeeze, and I love him all anew for that support.

"So, vampires," Ranma says. He does his best to keep his voice level, but with my hearing I can detect the shakiness in his voice. "So, this Count Dracula guy made you?"

"Like I said, that's just a story, Ranma," I tell him, turning around. I flash him a small smile, which he returns. "My story begins a lot farther back than that book."

"Wow, so you're like, really old," Ranma says with an impudent grin. He backs out of range as I try to swat his shoulder with a slap. "What's the matter, old woman? Can't keep up with a little boy like me?"

"You!" I growl, launching myself forward. With a laugh he rolls under me as I try to dive for him, forcing me to plant my hands and spring back to my feet. I spin in place to see him sitting casually on the ground. "I hope you know you're going to pay for that old woman crack, boy. I'm far too pretty to let you get away with calling me an old woman."

"I hear they can do great things with plastic surgery, and you've admitted you've got a lot of money," the pigtailed boy informs me smugly, kicking his feet up and cartwheeling away as I advance. We're thirty stories up and playing a game of tag which involves leaps which take us dangerously close to the edge of the the roof when I realize something.

Ranma has been holding back on me. The little bastard has actually been holding back on me!

"What the hell, Ranma? Since when are you this good?" I demand, crossing my arms and glaring at my student. He shrugs. "No, seriously. Usually you're not quite this strong, or quite this fast. Something's different."

"Well, I've noticed something, youba-chan," he admits nervously, scratching the base of his pigtail. "It's only something I've figured out in the last few months now that I've started to catch up to you. You aren't nearly as durable as I am."

"What are you talking about?" I growl, walking up to him. My fingers sharpen and I jab them into my arm, holding the gruesome wound close to his face. "Watch this!"

He winces as he watches the wound heals very quickly. Within minutes the only evidence of the wound at all is the small amount of now-drying blood on my arm.

"That's just it, youba-chan. You heal quick, that's true. But you can be hurt a lot more easily than I can. I've noticed that several times when I hit you, I've felt ribs giving beneath my blows," Ranma informs me, and I realize it's true. He doesn't tag me often, but when he does... I've been relying on my healing. I've gotten so used to the feel of healing wounds during our fights that I've been ignoring them because they simply disappear. "Me? You hit me just as hard..."

"...Oh my god!" Immediately I lift his shirt up. I've tagged him four times just in our last sparring match, each hit capable of splitting concrete. What have I been doing!? He's-

He's fine. Just like he's been every time in the past. Damn me, how could I not have noticed until now? How could I not have noticed how far I've been taking our sparring?

Easy answer, of course: He's been taking it. I'm so used to humans being grievously injured when I hit them anywhere near full strength that I just assumed I was taking it easy on Ranma. Caught up in battle, I'd never noticed just how close to my limits I was taking our fights these days.

"Like I said. Now that I know you'll be okay, and you aren't gonna really get hurt for long..." He says, grinning. His grin falls when he sees how pale I've grown.

"Ranma, you don't understand, do you?" I say, and he shakes his head. "Ranma, a vampire grows stronger with age. I'm one of the first. There's no way you should actually be this strong!"

"What can I say? I'm the best," he informs me simply.

"How are you doing it, though?" I demand, poking him in the chest. "You shouldn't be able to just train your body to this level of toughness, strength, or speed. At this rate, you'll be as strong and as fast as I am within months! This is impossible!"

"It's probably my chi. Pops mentioned it to me a few times," Ranma admits, walking over to the deck chair and sitting down. He grins. "But first, you've got to tell me a bit more about yourself, youba-chan. You've been keeping secrets."

"Looks like I'm not the only one," I mutter darkly, though I join him in the seat next to his regardless.

I'm the first to talk. I tell him about my first life. About Yaksha's birth and the events which surrounded it. About how he grew too quickly. How he took me from my family and made me like him. I told him of the dark days, of our horde swelling and pillaging. Of how lost in the darkness I truly was. Then I tell him of Krishna. Of my promise to Him. Ranma listens to it all.

Then I tell him of living quietly for thousands of years, avoiding all others of my kind. I don't tell him of my many lovers. I don't tell him of the many murders I've committed. I already know he's thinking about these things. If he really wants to know, he'll ask. Instead, I tell him of the wondrous sights I've seen, the people I've met. I tell him of sailing across with the first settlers to America, of helping the struggling people of my colony survive by covertly using my powers to aid them.

When I finish, the moon is high in the sky.

"Wow," he says, leaning back in his chair. His face is blank. I feel no trace of fear from him, only wonder. "That's... Wow."

"Your turn," I tell him, mock-scowling. I move across to sit on the end of his deck chair, poking him in the chest. He shoots me a curious look. "Now, you have to tell me everything you know about this 'chi' thing. I've only met one person who can fight a vampire as old as me on equal ground, and you know Krishna wasn't a normal human. What's your excuse?"

Thus, Ranma began to tell me the legends he was raised with. Of martial artists of unimaginable skill and power. Of warriors capable of shattering rock with a single touch or use the very energy of life itself to form a blazing ball of force. Of fighters who could walk on water or fly through the air. People who lived in every story of this strange land I found myself in, suddenly granted strange truth given my perspective of Ranma.

He falls asleep mumbling a tale of Musashi fighting four masters of the sword with a bokken carved from a boat paddle as the sun rises. Watching Ranma slumber quietly on the deck chair, I call his school and inform them he's sick and won't be in today. I'm sitting at the foot of his chair watching him when I too fall asleep.

oOo

Author's Notes:

So Alisa has finally admitted to Ranma what she is. This is going to have repercussions down the line, obviously, and it's certainly changed the nature of their relationship, for better or worse.

Now, those of you wondering about Ranma's sudden durability... It's not, really. Alisa was never especially durable in the novels. She just healed fast. She's frightened of guns. Ranma, mid-way through the manga, is taking shots which shatter thirty-foot stone statues and continuing to fight without a word.

Alisa is, at this point, stronger and faster. She also heals much quicker. Ranma, on the other hand, just doesn't get injured nearly as easily. Alisa's basically been the Bakusai Tenketsu training for Ranma for the last six years.

-Gaming Ikari


End file.
